


I Thought You Were Watching Them!

by k87654321w



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, F/M, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, humans as pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-08-12 22:52:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7952362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/k87654321w/pseuds/k87654321w
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU in which werewolves are the predominant species that keeps humorously incompetent humans as pets, and take full responsibility for the care and management of the weaker, foolhardy creatures. Far more characters are werewolves than in the show - most are, in fact. Meant to be sweet and funny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

Scott had always known that Stiles had an overactive imagination. He was forever spouting irrelevant trivia and completely random, absurd ideas. The perpetual stream of bizarreness out of Stiles' mouth kept everyone entertained, but this? This was on a whole other level...

"Wait. What? Tell me again." Stiles huffed as though he were being majorly inconvenienced, and began recounting his vivid and highly-detailed dream all over again from the beginning. Scott settled back and got comfy, listening as Stiles told a long and intricate story that, had it been a TV series, could've easily spanned at least five or six seasons. By the end, Stiles was looking exceptionally satisfied with himself. Scott just squinted at him in mild bewilderment.

"So... Let me get this straight. You dreamed that almost everyone was human, and werewolves were this big secret, but that was fine because humans could take care of themselves? Then Peter and Derek show up years after some fire and start turning a few humans - including ME - into werewolves. And we all worked together to fight all kinds of weird evil stuff, even violent humans that hunted down werewolves because they didn't want there to be any? And we were these big heroes that kept saving the day, and your dad was the sheriff, and my mom was human, and werewolves and humans could interbreed together, and... all that." Stiles nodded in excitement. "Yeah! Awesome, huh?" Scott smiled and shook his head. "You mean crazy. That's... That's crazy, Stiles." Stiles grinned and bounced. "AWESOMELY crazy!"

Crazy, because that was about as grounded in reality as... as nothing. Humans free and independent? Taking care of themselves, without werewolves to protect and/or direct them? Scott really needed to watch Stiles more closely, to find out what he'd been smoking. Because humans weren't autonomous citizens. They were prized and beloved pets!

Humans certainly weren't animals. They were definitely thinking creatures, able to reason almost as well as anyone else. It was readily admitted that some few were even smarter than many werewolves - academically and book-wise, anyway. But they were definitely NOT capable of living independently. A human set free on its own would be a disaster, because even though they were as intelligent as any other variety of people, they were just too easily distracted and emotional, too physically weak, needy and just plain scatterbrained to be trusted out on their own. If a werewolf behaved the way humans did, they would probably be diagnosed with some form of severe ADHD, or at least be considered ridiculously immature. With humans, though, that was... well, that was just how they were. Humans couldn't help it; they were humans. Which was why their whole species had long since been domesticated, so that they could thrive under the doting supervision of loving supernatural owners. The idea of Stiles and his father living all alone in a house of their own wasn't just ludicrous - it actually gave Scott cold chills of fear for them. Scott's lively pet was his best friend in all the world, and he couldn't imagine being so cold-hearted and negligent as to actually leave Stiles and his father to their own devices. That would just be irresponsible, and he cared too much about them!

Scott was by now very, VERY attached to his pet. He and Stiles were mere months apart in age, and the McCalls had owned both "Stilinski line" humans since he was a preschooler. One of Melissa's friends, Claudia, had been killed, and her pack had been uncertain what to do with her two humans. No one in her family had been prepared to take in more than one, but the pair were frantic to stay together, the father yelling and glaring at anyone that even SUGGESTED that he and Stiles might be placed in different homes, even for a short time. No one had the heart to separate them, especially not while they were still grieving their owner that had just passed, so Melissa had talked it over with Rafael, and convinced him that a pet was just what their Scott needed, that he and the younger one could grow up together, and that the older one could surely be made useful somehow. So it was that the McCall household had acquired its two human pets, and now, thirteen years later, Scott could scarcely remember or even imagine life without them.

So no, Scott didn't really like this wild dream Stiles'd had, though he DID appreciate a good adventure story. But the violence in this dream-tale? How very UNhuman! Werewolves, of course, were known to sometimes fight like the 'wolves' in their species' name, but humans just... didn't. Humans weren't always quiet and placid (Stiles was anything BUT quiet) but they were just too friendly, flighty, and flibberty-gidget to ever REALLY get violent. If they were truly dreadfully provoked, they MIGHT actually resort to stomping their feet or trying to push you away, but someone would have to try awfully hard in order to get them even THAT riled, because humans just didn't get violent. It was one more reason why they needed werewolves to care for them, because they were just so utterly incapable of self-defense. So what would prompt Stiles to dream about his species being so bellicose? (Scott was trying his hardest to practice using all those SAT vocabulary words...)

It hit him abruptly, why Stiles' subconscious might suddenly be so interested in being self-sufficient. "Oh, no. Stiles, this isn't about Mr. Harris, is it? You're not still letting what he said yesterday bug you, are you?" The way Stiles' face fell was answer enough. "No way. Stiles, you just gotta let it go. He probably didn't even mean it, it was just something rude to say because you were driving him nuts. I mean, you really were being kind of hyper. He just... took it too far. You just gotta let stuff like that slide." Stiles screwed up his face in annoyance. "Rude? You mean he was an insulting, 'holier-than-thou' speciesist dick of a DOUCHE. So I was bouncing my leg, tapping my pen, and kept forgetting to raise my hand. That's really why my kind shouldn't be allowed to go to school? Should stay at home or in petting zoos? Screw him! And giving you detention over it wasn't even fair. Wasn't YOUR fault that I didn't just sit like a statue and stare at his ugly mug. Why should YOU be in trouble for it?" Scott sighed. "Because as your owner, I'm supposed to make sure you behave." Another sigh. "I let you get away with all kinds of stuff, you know. You're totally spoiled." Stiles shrugged. "And? You shouldn't be punished for that. That's just a small part of what makes you the awesomest owner, ever!" Scott blushed, while Stiles grinned like an idiot, because his bad moods never did last very long.

Then there was a knock, and Stiles' dad popped his head in. "You two want breakfast? Rafe sent me up, Melissa made biscuits and fried eggs!" Stiles lit up at his father's entrance. "DAD!" He barreled across the room to squeeze him. "Did you two just get in? I didn't even hear you pull up! How was it? Did he arrest anybody? What did YOU get to do, besides paperwork? _Did you get to touch a gun?_ " The elder Stilinski human laughed. "In order: fifteen minutes ago, great, no, took pictures and sorted and labelled evidence, and are-you-crazy NO, Rafe would never in million years let me touch a gun, though we know I'd be great at it." Stiles beamed up at his father. "You'd be the BEST at it. You'd be the baddest-ass human of all time, if they'd let you! Matter of fact, I was just telling Scott how I had a dream that you were the sheriff, and you were running around upholding the law all the time." Stiles' father looked plumb tickled at that. "Yeah?" Stiles nodded. "Yep. Sheriff Stilinski, hero of Beacon County." A sly look passed over Stiles' dad's face. "So if I was the sheriff, what was Rafe?" Stiles looked him straight in the eye, completely deadpan. "The no-fun old stick-in-the-mud that was trying to get you fired." Even Scott laughed at that one!

Rafael McCall was actually a pretty decent guy. Not only had he approved his wife's idea to take in not one, but TWO pets (one of which was uncommonly spastic, even for a human), but he'd also given the older human something somewhat meaningful to do, by bringing him along on local cases sometimes, as an assistant of sorts. He'd paid for the expensive month-long training class pets had to go through in order to be allowed to work alongside their FBI-agent owners, and been rewarded with a very loyal, hardworking sidekick that was sometimes observant enough to be able to point out things that even other FBI agents had missed. Though he MOSTLY served as a general go-fer, the elder Stilinski was sharp enough and quick enough on the uptake that Agent McCall often felt justified entrusting him with a LOT more than most other pets working with the Bureau would ever get to handle - but a gun would not be among those things handled! Not only would that be highly illegal, but even commonsense just made it plain that "human + gun = obvious bad idea". Stiles resented his father being 'deprived' that way, mostly because HE wanted to touch a gun. Lobbying for his father to have access was a strategy for getting his own hands on one that MIGHT have worked, because Stilinski, Sr. had an enormous soft spot for his one and only offspring. If Scott spoiled Stiles, then the human's father could safely be said to indulge in Stiles' near-every whim. He could be counted on to crack and let Stiles play with it, if HE had it, himself. But Mr. McCall, being a responsible pet owner, wasn't about to let that happen, and Stiles sort of half held a very, very tiny, mild grudge over it...

"BREAKFAST!" And that was Mr. McCall, himself. "You three down here before it gets cold!" "OK!" "Alright! Coming!" They trooped down the stairs to find Melissa perched on a tired and rumpled Rafe's lap at the table, the two of them very involved in a kiss. Scott looked a little pained. "Um. I thought we were about to EAT...?" Stiles grinned. "So? They should totally have at it, whatever they wanna do. I don't mind at all." Well, of COURSE Stiles didn't mind. He and Scott were both at that age where nothing in the universe was as fascinating as the young females of their respective species. So Stiles stared openly at people kissing whenever he could, waiting on the day that HE could do some kissing, too. Hopefully with something warm, soft, 5'3", strawberry-blonde...

They ate, and Scott and Stiles finished getting ready for school while their fathers laid down to sleep off the late night they'd worked, and Melissa got ready for a day shift at the human clinic. They hopped into Scott's jeep (that Stiles greatly admired, and pretended was his own) and went to school. Educating pet humans wasn't legally REQUIRED, but it never really occured to anyone (except Harris, apparently) to deny them. After all, many humans were actually astonishingly bright, and sometimes helped tutor other students, even werewolves. It was everyday good sense and basic LIFE skills that the werewolves excelled at, and the humans sorely lacked. Which was why Scott had to keep reminding Stiles NOT to pull fire alarms, _each and every time they ever passed one_...

They turned a corner and spotted Allison, Jackson, and Lydia near the water fountain, and paused a second to collect themselves. Because GIRLS. And not just any girls, but the ones their moon and stars revolved around, the ones that stole their breath and were solid proof that God existed, because beauty like that was divine. Allison had been a transfer student when her pack moved to Beacon Hills the year before, and Scott had fallen so hard and deep within mere minutes of meeting her that there was no retrieving him. And Lydia? Since third grade, Stiles had only barely been aware of the EXISTENCE of any other human girls. Lucky for them, their two favorite ladies (other than Mrs. McCall, of course) were fast friends, and tended to herd together at school. Sometimes the universe worked and was convenient like that!

"Oh look, it's Goofus and Gallant. What do you losers want?" Yeah. And Jackson, who was Lydia's owner and a friend of Allison's, for some mysterious reason. The word 'douche' didn't even begin to cover it, some days. Allison and Lydia BOTH rolled eyes at him. "Jackson, be nice, would you? They're my friends, too." Then Allison turned to Scott, and the smiles those two gifted each other were almost painfully bright. Stiles actually felt forced to look away, lest he be blinded, or something. So he focused his attention on something else nearly as bedazzling: Lydia, of the "Martin" line of humans.

"Hey." He fidgeted, and tried not to drool. Ugh, it was just unfair how gorgeous she was. "Hey," she absently replied. That was about as far as the conversation went most days, but that was fine. In those moments, Stiles was content just to be breathing the same air that she was. He had often thought about suggesting to the McCalls that they look into having her transferred into their care, too, but... no. Not because he was sensible enough to appreciate that THREE pets would be a bit much for a middle-class family, but because he was dimly aware that maybe she was better off where she was. The Whittemores were extravagantly well-off financially, and it was probably fitting for such a fantastic specimen of human femininity to stay with a family that could maintain her in more-than-comfortable style. Because sure, Stiles' life was comfortable enough. The McCalls took very good care of him. All his needs were met, and many of his wants. He was happy, healthy, and loved. But was it good enough for a miraculous creature like Lydia? Probably not. The Whittemores didn't deserve her, but they came closer to being able to give her everything Stiles thought she ought to have than anyone ELSE he knew.

The warning bell rang, and Scott and Stiles meandered to the first of their classes together. It had always been arranged for them to have the exact same schedule so that Scott, as owner, could keep close watch on his pet throughout the day. Their morning actually went uncommonly well. Scott only had to gently redirect Stiles a handful of times, and even chemistry class was quiet, with Stiles and Mr. Harris only exchanging a bare minimum of wary looks. Scott was immensely proud of Stiles for containing himself so well for so long, and praised his pet effusively on their way to lunch, offering to get him something out of the vending machine as reward. Stiles, of course, perked right up at that, and pointed gleefully at the Reese's behind the glass. Jackson snorted. "No wonder you have so much trouble with your human, if you reward him for nothing. He didn't even do anything special, just behaved like he was SUPPOSED to." Scott didn't even get a chance to respond before Stiles rejoined with, "Know what was pretty special? That I went all morning without telling you to go blow yourself. I should DEFINITELY be rewarded for that. That was just saintly of me." While Jackson flashed his eyes and sounded off about mouthy pets, Scott just grinned and bought Stiles ANOTHER Reese's, which he gave to Lydia when Jackson wasn't looking. She actually deigned to SMILE at him. Oh, yeah. It was a good day...

A good day, that kept on being pretty good all the way through lacrosse practice after school. For obvious safety reasons the humans couldn't play with all the werewolves, and there weren't quite enough humans in their school for a separate pets' team, but Stiles and two other humans amused themselves off to the side with some spare sticks and balls Finstock let them use. Allison sat with Lydia on the bleachers, to watch her for Jackson while REALLY watching Scott, even as Lydia pretended to do her homework while really eyeing the human boys. Scott was having a GREAT practice, proving exactly how good at it he was, at least until he noticed Allison gazing at him that way. He stopped right in the middle of the field to wave and blow a kiss at her, which gave the other players the perfect opportunity to plow forward and flatten him.

Coach's whistle pierced the air. "McCALL! What the hell? Get up, head in the game! That what you're gonna do during a REAL game? Stand around reciting love poems? Geez. Hormonal teenagers..." Scott's teammates laughed, while Scott himself just flushed thirteen shades of pink and red, grinned awkwardly, readjusted his helmet, and pretended that never happened...

Practice was interrupted by a yell of pain from one of the humans. Everyone dropped whatever they were doing to rush over and see what the problem was. Jared was on the ground holding his stomach, looking as though he might get sick. Reaching them first, Scott asked, "What happened?" Stiles threw his arms up. "I didn't do it! Was Greenberg this time, not me!" Coach groaned. "Oh, for the love of-" He ran an aggravated hand through his hair. "Greenberg, gimme that stick, can't even trust you to play with other humans! Get on the bleachers, do your homework. Or you know what? Practice is over, everybody! We're done for the day. Last time I volunteer to watch YOU, Greenberg. My brother can find somebody ELSE to pet-sit!"

After helping Jared's owner get him inside without jostling him too much, and telling Allison and the others goodbye, Scott and Stiles headed for home. It took a little longer than the distance to the house should have taken, because Scott made a detour to an empty parking lot behind an abandoned warehouse to let Stiles practice driving for a few minutes. Humans couldn't get drivers' licenses, but Scott thought it was fun trying to teach his pet to drive a little, anyway. Of course he would never actually let Stiles drive on the ROAD, not just because the law wouldn't allow it, but because he valued his life and vehicle more than that! It was harrowing enough just coaching Stiles through the making of broad circles around their chosen parking lot, but it was worth it to watch the smug grin spread across Stiles' face, whenever he managed to maneuver the jeep past something without bumping into it. Of course, he DIDN'T miss the giant pothole. Four circles around, and Stiles went straight through it all four times. Scott kind of wondered if Stiles was doing it on purpose, but Stiles looked just as rattled as Scott felt each time, so probably not...

Once home they found a note from Melissa, asking them to please clean the house up some before she got home. They had about forty-five minutes, so Scott thought quick and assigned Stiles garbage-gathering, bed-making, and counter-wiping, while he, himself attacked the bathrooms and floors. (Since no faith could be had in Stiles' proficiency with either vacuum OR mop. That was a lesson that had been learned the hard way.) They had only just finished, and were right in the middle of high-fiving each other for a job well done, when Melissa walked in. "Oh, good! The house DOES look much better. Thank you, boys!" Self-congratulatory fist-bumps were exchanged. She started supper while they wandered off to go finish homework and listen to the radio. Not that Stiles actually finished much homework, busy as he was looking up the price of eggs in western China, and the chemical composition of Komodo dragon venom. Not that it mattered. He'd just scrawl something down before class in the morning, anyway. Scott, with his species' superior hearing, heard their fathers pulling up before Stiles did. "Hey. They're back." Stiles leapt up and raced down the stairs. "Yo, Dad! Mr. McCall!"

They ate the supper Melissa fixed and shared all about their day, before their dads left again. Scott and Stiles cleaned up (only breaking one dish), then went back upstairs to goof off and talk about nothing, falling asleep on the floor of Scott's room. A good day...


	2. Chapter 2

Yes, things were normally good. But then there were the days that interesting things happened...

Like the memorable night that the McCalls had a family emergency, and DIDN'T bring Stiles and his dad with them. Normally they would never have even CONSIDERED leaving them alone, but it was late at night when they got the call, there would be neither room nor patience for them where they were going, and it would only be for three or four hours. Scott offered to stay home with them, but his parents wouldn't dream of leaving him out of a rare visit with his extended family. Besides, the elder Stilinski had always been such a well-behaved, sensible human that they really thought they would have nothing to worry about. Especially with how late it was, they assumed that the Stilinskis would just go back to sleep. Oh, how wrong they were...

Stiles and his father lay there in their beds staring across the room at each other for a couple minutes, but the sheer novelty of it all was enough to render sleep impossible. It was strange. Alone? By themselves? No werewolf guardian overseers?

Finally, Stiles couldn't stand it, and bounced up to go... do something. He didn't even know what, exactly, but he was restless, and he really had to look around, just to be SURE they were alone. Because ALONE just never happened. Werewolves didn't leave their humans alone. Stiles needed to check, just to verify this unique event!

He wandered around the house, turning on lights and poking his head in every door. His dad came down a minute later, and stood in the living room with his hands in his pajama pockets, looking around as though he wasn't sure WHAT to think. "So.... We're alone." Stiles plopped down on a chair in the kitchen. "Huh. Yeah. Guess so." His dad rubbed the back of his neck. "Well." A pause, before he laughed. "Might as well take it in, 'cause THIS probably won't ever happen again. Someday you can tell my grandkids all about it, how you were home without your owners." Then he frowned and looked nervous. "We should check and make sure the doors are locked? Watch some lunatic bust in here while they're not home..."

They did that, then decided that since they were up, they might as well get a snack. Pretty much ALL the junk food in the house was summarily devoured, over a game of Fildinski-Bézique*. Naturally, they scattered crumbs EVERYWHERE. Halfway through, Stiles' father got up to rummage through the cabinets above the refrigerator, to see if there was anything else to find and eat. What he found up there though, was not food, but alcohol. A very expensive, 15-year-old single-pot-still rye whiskey, 118 proof.

They stared at it for a moment. They knew what it was. And while normally it was STILES that pulled shenanigans and got into trouble, right then it was his dad in whose mind you could see the wheels turning. But both Stilinskis were riding a similar train of thought, one that went something approximately like this: _This is alcohol. It is not illegal for pets to consume alcohol. Most owners just don't provide it, supposedly it's dangerous? If it were TRULY dangerous, it WOULD be illegal. It's intended for consumption. At the very least, they would forbid it. No one's ever told me not to. It's not even put away where I can't get it. It's in the kitchen, where they keep everything else we can have. It's not locked away, or in their room. Must mean we can have it..._ They looked up at each other at the same moment. Stiles flapped a hand. "So are we gonna-" "Oh, yeah." His dad smiled. "Don't see any reason not to...!"

Having no experience with alcohol, they didn't know to sip at it. They poured it back the same way they would a glass of water or orange juice. While his dad just made a face of surprise, Stiles gagged and nearly heaved it back up. "Wow. That's... potent." Stiles' father turned the bottle slowly. "I've heard it said that it's an acquired taste. You get used to it, then you can taste all the subtleties." Stiles shrugged. "Werewolves, bet they can taste and smell all that, anyway. They could probably sniff it from across the room, and tell you who stuck their fingers in it two days ago." They looked at each other. "But we could learn, too..."

They sat at the table with it, smirking at each other, everything growing funnier as minutes and ounces disappeared. "We're like those fancy weres on TV, drinking stuff on special occasions." Stiles' dad grinned at that. "Well, it IS a special occasion! We're all alone, and look at us, not even burning the place down, or anything. You know, us humans, we're a lot smarter than they think. We can HANDLE stuff. Bet I could do Rafe's job. Bet I could. Bet I could even drive the car!" Stiles spilled a little on the table in his sudden excitement. "Scott lets me drive the jeep!" His dad looked thoroughly impressed. "He does? You do?" Stiles grinned and nodded. "Yeah! Well, not on the road. In this parking lot. I make circles. I make GREAT circles. I don't even hit the lamp-post!" The elder Stilinski looked so proud, Stiles wasn't sure he wouldn't start crying. "That's my boy. Knew you's a smart one. Anything werewolves can do, us Stilinskis can do..." Stiles nodded sagely. "Yeah. 'Cept grow teeth and claws and fuzz. But who needs all that?" He froze suddenly. "Their GIRLS do that, too..." They stared at each other, then shuddered in unison. "Uck..."

Only now they were thinking of females, and they had enough alcohol in their systems that what little brain-to-mouth filter humans had was gone. "Lydia'd look FUNKY all werewolfed out. SO glad she's human. Nice, smooth human, all soft and not furry. Smooth face, smooth legs... Bet her hips are smooth, too. And her back. And her..." He kept talking. His dad took another swig and nodded. "Mm-hmm. Martin women. Mmm. That Natalie looks almost as good as your mother did..." His face fell. "I miss her..."

Stiles got a little sad, too. He could barely remember his mother, young as he'd been when she died, but what few partial memories he DID have were nice, of warm hugs, and being tickled, and his dad lighting up whenever she walked in the room. He knew that her name had been Claudia, too, same as their old owner, and that she'd died of a brain disorder, something the doctors at the human clinic could do nothing for. They sat there in silence, lips wobbling, until Stiles' dad sniffed and wiped his nose, which snapped Stiles out of it. "Hey! Isn't there ice cream in the freezer?" Stiles' father looked confused. "Maybe?" Stiles wobbled his drunken self over to the fridge - because yes, he was by then quite officially drunk. "I'mma get it. And we can eat it, and be HAPPY..."

They kept drinking. Even poured a little on their ice cream and mixed it in. By the time the McCalls got home, they had finished the entire 2.35 liters, had had an adventure just migrating from kitchen to living room, and were sprawled out on the couch, playing with the empty bottle, giggling like crazy.

The McCalls didn't even have to ask, didn't even have to open the door and SEE. They could smell it from the driveway. "Oh, no. They didn't..." They came in and stared at their humans, who were so blitzed they couldn't even sit up to greet them. "Heyyyy...." "Oh. Rafe. This stuff." Stiles tried to nod. "Yeah. Yucky. But ice cream's good..." Scott immediately rushed over to Stiles' side to check on him. "Dude, you're _wasted_. How much did you even have?" Stiles grinned lopsidedly. "Whole thing!" Scott gasped. "Almost two and a half liters?! Mom, what's that gonna do to 'em?" Melissa crouched down to peer into their eyes. They giggled at her. She sighed. "THIS, mostly. Depends on exactly how much of it each of them had... I don't really know. They'd be worse off if they hadn't eaten, but they won't really feel it 'til tomorrow morning." She stood up and crossed her arms. "But Rafe, you wanna tell us how they got hold of it? I thought you kept that stuff put away where they couldn't get it!" As a werewolf, Mr. McCall couldn't get drunk, but he liked the taste, and so indulged himself rather frequently. Rafael stepped back. "I do. (glare from Melissa) Usually. You can stop glaring at me, it's not like I GAVE it to them!" She waved her hands beside her face. "But you left it where they could get into it!" Stiles and his father stared in confusion, before they let themselves start snickering. The sight of one of their owners getting fussed at by the other was just unbearably funny in their inebriated minds, so much so that the older one just threw an arm over his eyes and laughed 'til he cried, while Stiles fell all the way off the couch and bumped his shoulder on the coffee table. Scott leaped to pick him up. "Stiles! Stiles, man, you OK? Come on, buddy, let me put you to bed." Stiles leaned on his best friend and owner, groaning. "Noooo. Don't wanna...." Scott started walking him up, anyway. "Noooo. Feels funny..." Rafael didn't even try to walk Stiles' father, but just picked him up and carried him, shifting him so as not to press his stomach, after he groaned and lurched. "Oh, no you don't. Don't throw up on me, Stilinski..." Stilinski, Sr. hiccuped and grinned. "Nah..."

They were up in the humans' room when they heard the unholy screech from downstairs. **_"_** ** _MY KITCHEN!"_**   Even the drunk humans froze, and looked anxiously at their owners, who were looking anxiously at each other. Scott whispered, "What did you do?" Stiles wriggled around beneath his blankets, trying to get comfortable. "I dunno?" Another screech. **_"RAFAEL! I AM GOING TO KILL YOU! DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE ANY MORE WHISKEY LAYING AROUND WHERE THEY CAN GET TO IT!"_** Mr. McCall muttered to himself, "WASN'T just laying around..." He looked down at Stilinski and sighed. "Well, that was the first AND last time you two get left home alone. Hope you enjoyed it." Stilinski grinned sleepily, slurring, "TOLD him was a special occasion...." The McCall men winced as the loudest screech yet floated up to them. _**"AND MY HALLWAY!!! WHAT IS THIS?!?!"**_ Rafe scowled. "Humans..." Walking out, he patted Scott on the shoulder. "When your mother sinks her claws in me, please remind her that it was HER idea to take in two pets?"

======================================================================

The next morning was a nightmare. The humans didn't want to get up, stumbled everywhere bumping into everything, and only ate a bite or two of breakfast, since they couldn't keep anything down. The elder Stilinski wouldn't be worth anything at work, so Rafael sent him with Melissa for the day. The human clinic was where a sick human needed to be, anyway, and Melissa would find him a spare bed to sleep it off on. He would have sent Stiles with Melissa, too, but Scott looked so crestfallen at the idea of a school day without his pet that they relented. "You're sure you can handle him? If he gets too sick, he'll just have to stay in the office, because we'll be too busy to come get him." Scott shook his head. "No, he'll be fine. I've got him. Actually, he'll probably be EASIER to handle like this. He won't be bouncing around as much..."

The first half of the day DRAGGED by. Everyone and their uncle wanted to know if Stiles was OK. "Scott, is your pet having a... a hangover? Did you get him DRUNK?" The upside was that it kept Jackson away, after Stiles made as though he might vomit on his $200 shoes. Stiles didn't learn anything that day, too preoccupied with trying not to move too fast or agitate his headache to listen to anything the teachers had to say. He even ignored Mr. Harris' jabs about pets' tendencies towards addiction, and just drew pictures of Scott all "wolfed-out" and standing on him in triumph...

Later that afternoon there was a completely different scene, starring Lydia. It was the second to last class of the day, and Stiles was finally pretty much over his earlier misery, but still not paying attention in class. Instead he was texting his father who, also better, was giving Stiles a play-by-play of what was going on at the clinic. _"They're surgically removing a bunch of batteries out of this guy's stomach. We'll go ahead and call him dead even if he comes through it, 'cause his owner looks like he's gonna kill him."_ Stiles snorted, prompting Scott to shush him and look over his shoulder at what he was reading. "Dude," Scott whispered in horror, "YOU wouldn't eat a battery, would you?"

But Stiles didn't get to answer, because the whispering on their left finally erupted into a loud, "I said NO!" Everyone looked over to see Jackson aggravatedly holding a seething Lydia in place by her arm. "But LOOK! I'd be doing her a favor!" The teacher looked up in question. "Jackson, is there a problem?" He glared at Lydia. "No, sir." The teacher hummed. "Well, if you need a minute to calm your pet down, I'll be happy to excuse you." Jackson shook his head. "Won't be necessary, thank you." The teacher nodded and continued his lecture. Students nearest them could still hear their angry whispers, though. "Jackson, let me go!" "Leave it alone. It's not even a big deal, just DROP it." She huffed. "But it looks stupid, and it's getting on my nerves." "Lydia, YOU'RE getting on my nerves. Just let me listen, forget about it." The teacher glanced over at them, and got two obviously fake smiles in response. Lydia clicked her pen, in irritation. "Then ask her to fix it!" Scott leaned in. "What's the problem? Can I help?" Lydia spun around. "Yes, you can. Please ask Malia to tuck her tag in. Looks stupid, her shirt tag always hanging out." Jackson rolled his eyes, but Scott obligingly scooted forward to tap Malia on the shoulder. "Hey, um, Lydia noticed your shirt tag hanging out?" Malia was completely indifferent. "Yeah, I can hear that. Don't care." Scott paused, uncertain what to make of that. "You don't care if I fix it for you, then?" Malia didn't even turn around. "It itches. I don't want it tucked in." Scott turned around to tell Lydia that. "She says it itches." Lydia let out a dramatic sigh. "Then tell her to rip it out, or something. It's... it's WAVING at me." Scott turned back to Malia. "She wants-" Malia interrupted. "Me to rip it out. I heard. But I don't wanna make a hole in my shirt. She can just chill, I'll get it later. IF I remember. Probably won't, though. Not like it matters." Scott turned around again to relay that. Lydia huffed. "Then just let me-" Jackson was getting irate. "No. Shut up, drop it, quit talking about it. Trying to listen and take notes. School, remember?" Lydia pouted and grumbled, "Could just use MY notes, later..." There was quiet for a few minutes, everyone scratching away, trying to focus on the lesson. But Lydia's eyes kept shooting back up to Malia's neck. She glanced at Jackson and squirmed. Stiles noticed. "Hey. It's really bugging her. Maybe I can just-" Scott shook his head. "Malia doesn't want it tucked in, and it IS her shirt. Class is almost over, I'm sure she'll be fine." Stiles nodded and sat there, uneasy because Lydia was uneasy...

Until Lydia slammed her pen down and stood up, not even bothering to whisper anymore. "Look, I'm just gonna fix this. I can-" Malia swiveled her head. "Jackson, you better get your pet. She touches my neck, and we're gonna have a problem." The teacher put down his chalk. "Jackson, you need to take your pet out now." Losing his temper, Jackson snatched her arm and yanked her out in the hall, where he shoved her up against the wall. "What the hell is your problem?! We said NO! Just trying to do school, and you're RUINING it, like you ruin everything!" But even mild violence towards weak humans drew attention, drawing people out after them. "JACKSON! Let her go!" Scott was on top of him before the teacher could even get out there. Scott may have been a fount of patience, but someone getting rough with humans drew ALL his protective ire. He grabbed Jackson by the throat and pulled him off. "She's HUMAN. She can't help it!" Jackson growled. "Pretty sure she could help not listening and getting me thrown out of class!" Scott shook him. "So? She's fragile, you gotta be gentle with her. You break her, it'll take her days or even WEEKS to heal. She needs you to take care of her, not hurt her!" Jackson snarled. "I didn't HURT her, McCall. Just let her know I was done with her crap." The teacher walked up. "And this is why I asked you to take her out, so it could be dealt with BEFORE it became a problem. Abusing a human won't be tolerated. We're going to have to call your parents, because we can't let her stay with you if you're going to mistreat her." Jackson looked almost sad for a second, before jerking angrily out of Scott's grip. "FINE. Tired of dealing with her drama, anyway..." The teacher started to escort him to the office, when he paused and looked around. "Where IS Lydia?" Stiles fidgeted nervously. "Um. With Allison? She took her to the bathroom when she started getting upset..." The teacher nodded. "Probably for the best. Someone tell her to bring Lydia to the office when they get out?" Scott nodded, and the class dismissed. There was only four minutes left until the bell rang, anyway.

A call was made to Mr. and Mrs. Whittemore. Jackson didn't get into any real trouble, (other than a very serious lecture on the importance of being patient with pet humans) but it did result in an arrangement whereby Allison would tend to Lydia throughout the school day, and during Jackson's lacrosse practices after school. Jackson really did care for Lydia, but he just couldn't focus on anything with her around, and it had been wearing him thin. So she remained technically his, but would be transferred into Allison's hands as soon as they arrived at school each day, and would only be given back to him just before he went home. It was an arrangement that suited everyone except Stiles, who now disliked Jackson more than he ever had before. He tried sidling up next to Lydia the next day, telling her, "Your owner's a prick. Maybe you need somebody like Scott? 'Cause he never does me or my dad like that. And 'sides, you were totally right about her tag. Sticking out? Yeah, uh, me and Scott were with you there. Me, I was with you. Totally with you..." Lydia sighed. "Well, he CAN be, sometimes. He's mostly nice to me, though. But yes, I WAS right, wasn't I?" She cocked her head at him, considering. "You know, your tag's out, too. AND your shirt's mis-buttoned." Stiles blinked and scrambled to fix it, while Lydia walked off with Allison...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Fildinski-Bézique is a Polish card game. Also called Fildinsky, or Polish Bézique. Similar to Pinochle.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes discussion of sexual activity in this AU. There is awkward terminology used to talk about humans doing it, but have no fear. NOTHING non-con or even dub-con is even intended to be hinted at. If anything, strict control by the "owners" actually prevents even a lot of fully-consensual and desperately desired activity, so no worries. No one is ever dragged into ANYTHING sexual that they don't want.

Scott loved his pet. Stiles was his best friend, and he was generally happy to have him tag along with him everywhere he went, practically attached to him like a third arm. Most of the time, anyway. Because even the most loving owners needed a break sometimes, especially when they had very, very specific plans.

"You're not taking me?! Scott! Why not?" Stiles was horrified and flailing. Scott just kept on with getting himself ready. "Because. I'm going on a date with Allison." Stiles flailed some more. "SO? I went with y'all on your last date, and nobody had a problem with it!" Scott shook his head. "Yeah, that IS the problem. You've been with us on almost ALL our dates, but I'm ready for some alone time with her, you know? And it's not exactly alone if there's a pet staring at us." Stiles was affronted. "I do not STARE..." Scott rolled his eyes. "But you're THERE, and you're DISTRACTING, and I have to WATCH you. And tonight, tonight I just... I just really wanna focus on me and Allison. OK?" Stiles crossed his arms. "No. This is not OK. You're ditching me to go do something fun, and you're just gonna shove me off on your dad? Uncool, man..." Scott sighed. "Can't really have the kind of fun I WANT to with you there. Seriously, Stiles, it'll be fine. You and YOUR dad can do whatever, and MY dad'll be here if you need anything. It's not like I'm leaving you for weeks. It's just a few hours." Stiles flopped down in the floor. "Oh my gosh, you SUCK. You suck SO hard, Scott. You soulless human-abandoner." Scott just grabbed his jacket and clapped Stiles' shoulder. "Come on downstairs." Stiles frowned at him, but followed. At the door, Mr. McCall gave a short speech about curfews and safety. After half-heartedly pretending to listen and nodding in agreement, Scott turned to his scowling pet and smiled. "It's fine, dude. I'll be back soon. Behave for my dad, and MAYBE I'll bring you a treat..." And he left.

Mr. McCall shut the door, and Stiles just stood there staring forlornly at it. Rafael started walking back to the kitchen. "Quit moping. He'll be back before ten-thirty." Stiles still didn't move, but just kept staring at the door as if he could will Scott back through it, so Rafael sighed and snapped his fingers. "Kitchen, Stiles. Get yourself a snack, then sit with your dad." Stiles' frown only grew deeper, but he obeyed... 

Stiles slunk into the kitchen and nabbed a bag of chips before throwing himself down in a chair beside his father, who was helping organize papers that Agent McCall was signing. "Hey, Stiles! Scott leave?" Stiles shoved a handful of chips into his mouth with more noise and mess than necessary. "Yeah." His dad paperclipped a few forms together. "Allison?" Stiles swallowed and slumped. "Yeah." His dad paused. "Aw, well. He won't stay gone forever..." He went back to the papers Rafael kept handing him. Stiles peered at them. "So what is this?" Stiles' dad explained a little about the string of bank robberies they were looking into. Rafael didn't volunteer any extra information. After wringing his dad dry of all the details he could possibly extract, he started fidgeting. "So. Dad. Wanna play cards, or something?" Rafael answered for him. "No. We're busy. This is important, and I need to get it done by morning." Stiles shrugged one shoulder. "So do it. Wanna play cards with my DAD." Rafael shot him a warning look. "Your dad is helping me, so can the attitude. I'm not Scott." Stiles moodily crunched another chip, staring at Mr. McCall. "So how come I don't get to go run off with girls? I wanna run off with girls. Better than sitting at the table here with Agent McBoring..." Rafael ignored him...

"Ugh. I wanna go somewhere, do something. Mr. McCall, take us out someplace? You could do all this at a late-night diner, or something. Get coffee, wearing a yellow fedora and a trenchcoat. And I can have a sundae, with extra cherries!" Rafael didn't even look up. "No." Stiles enunciated it slowly: "A-gent. McBor-ing." Rafael DID look up, then. "You think this is what I want to spend my Wednesday night doing? Overtime I won't be paid for, while a disrespectful pet keeps interrupting?" He shook his head slightly. "Be very glad my son loves you...." 

Stiles was quiet for a minute. (Only a minute.) "Wish I could run around with girls..." His dad looked up and patted his hand. "You'll be eighteen in no time. Just you wait." Stiles snorted. "Probably won't happen even then." He paused and looked at Rafael. "Will it? Would y'all ever let me try to breed?" Rafael sighed. "That's on Scott. You're HIS pet. I just don't need another generation of Stilinski humans here in MY house." 

It was something Stiles thought about constantly. Breeding. SEX. But when? The law, of course, forbade reproductive activity for humans under age eighteen - not that that always stopped it from happening. Teenaged humans were notorious for trying to sneak around that particular statute. Lydia had been caught more than once with boys whose owners weren't watching them closely enough. And Stiles, like almost every other healthy young human, absolutely could not wait. All his favorite daydreams involved having both Scott and Jackson's permission to try and convince Lydia that HE was the young male human that she wanted to make new ones with - and her agreeing with him. He didn't see why they wouldn't let them. After all, he and Lydia would make some AWESOME little humans. Who WOULDN'T want a good-looking genius of a pet, that was half him and half Lydia? Stilinski-Martins really SHOULD be in high demand, if anyone knew anything about humans. Really, by wooing Lydia, Stiles would only be helping everybody out, improving the human stock...

Rafael's voice cut through his musings. "Please, Stiles. I smell your hormones all over this house all the time. I don't need my table where I EAT soaked in your lust, too." Stiles took up scowling again. "You and Melissa kiss at the table all the time. Telling me THAT doesn't have a smell?" Rafael just looked at him. "It's our table." Stiles crossed his arms and bounced his leg...

"I'm bored." Rafael gestured toward the refrigerator. "So eat something." Stiles kicked the rung of his chair. "Wanna DO something. You done with Dad, yet?" "No." Stiles' dad drummed his fingers. "Maybe he can help, too?" Rafael thought on it a moment before sliding his laptop across to Stiles. "Alright. I have some things you can look up for me..." Stiles spent the next hour or so Googling the addresses and phone numbers of banks, security companies, and sign-painters. Finally, Rafael took the stack of paperwork Stiles' dad had tidied up for him. "Alright. We're done. You two, upstairs, get ready for bed. That means brush your TEETH, Stiles." Stiles glared. "I KNOW..." Scott's dad had never forgotten watching Stiles one evening when he was six, when he decided that painting pictures on the wall with toothpaste was more fun than actually brushing his teeth. Ten years later, Mr. McCall still didn't fully trust him to get ready for bed without neglecting his oral hygiene in favor of making a mess. Stiles resented it. That was a lesson he'd actually learned, OK?

Stiles and his dad were laying in bed with the light on just talking, when Rafael came up a few minutes later to check on them. "Good. I'm gonna get MYSELF ready for bed. Stiles, Scott should be home in about thirty minutes." Stiles nodded. Rafe nodded. "Alright, then. Good night." "Night." "G'night..."

They lay there a few minutes. "So. You wanna go make more Stilinskis, huh?" Stiles' hands waved in a motion that said, DUH. "OH, yeah. Totally..." His dad smirked. "With Lydia?" Stiles closed his eyes and let his head flop backwards. "Ngnuh. Lydia..." His dad got all serious. "If you ever DO get permission to breed? I wanna see the results. Tell your owner that that's a condition, without which you won't be doing it - that I get to visit sometimes with my grandkids. Have them put that in the agreement." Stiles nodded. "Scott would make sure you got to see 'em. He's cool like that." He just wondered if LYDIA would be cool like that, if she would even let him...

Scott bounced up the stairs shortly thereafter. "Stiles, hey, you asleep?" Said pet bounced up. "Nope! But how'd it go? I was bored stiff. Your dad's some kind of workaholic..." He followed Scott back to his room. "So? Tell me how it went!" Scott grinned and starfished on his bed. "Oh, it went good. REALLY good." Stiles dropped into the green chair in the corner. "Well." Scott nodded, dazed grin still in place. "Yeah." Stiles smirked. "You mean, well. It went well." Scott shrugged. "Good, well, awesome. It was great, however you say it." Stiles leaned forward. "So? What'd you guys do?" Scott's gaze was far-away and dreamy. "First grabbed something quick to eat, then we drove out to the reservoir. Parked and just watched the stars shining on the water for a few minutes." He rolled over to face Stiles and grinned. "Made out." Stiles stared at him. "You lucky dog, you." Scott frowned. "Dog jokes?" Stiles waved dismissively. "Just a phrase, dude. Anyway. You made out. And?" Scott started looking starstruck again. "Mm. A lot of that. All kinds of that. All kinds of awesome. SHE'S awesome. Best girl EVER..." Stiles scratched his elbow. "Hey. Question. When you werewolves make out, do you WOLF out? Do y'all do it shifted? Or is that just for when you're pissed off?" Scott propped himself up on his fist. "I mean, I guess we could. I never thought about it. But anything that makes your heartrate go up can do it, and a beautiful girl... yeah, Allison raises my heartrate. But I wouldn't wanna accidentally hurt her, so I probably wouldn't. I mean, my claws pop out sometimes, but I draw 'em back in..." Stiles shrugged. "Just wondered." Scott laid on his back, again. "And you? What'd you do while I was gone?" Stiles sighed. "Was BORED. So bored. Your dad's boring." Scott chuckled. "Is YOUR dad boring, too?" Stiles grunted. "Tonight? Kinda. Was helping your dad with stuff. They let me help a little, too. Googled crap for 'em while they did paperwork." "And that was boring?" Stiles snorted. "Compared to making out at the reservoir? Uh, YEAH." 

He paused. "Hey. When we're eighteen, are you gonna let me breed?" Scott rolled over again. "Yeah, sure. I mean, if there's a girl you like that wants to, and her owner's cool with it, then yeah. Why not?" Stiles picked at his shirt. "What if we wanted to stay together? Would you work something like that out?" Scott nodded. "Probably. We'd figure it out." Stiles pulled a thread out of his sleeve and wrapped it around his pinky. "And you'd let us keep whatever babies we had? And let my dad see 'em?" Scott started to get concerned. "Well, yeah! Of course. ANY halfway decent owner would keep parents and little kids together. Nobody's that cruel. At least, I'm not gonna be. Were you worried about it? Did you think I wouldn't?" Stiles let out a breath. "No. No, I knew you'd be cool about it. It's just... I don't know. The girl, THEIR owner'd have to agree to everything, too. And what if THEY'RE an ass about it?" Scott shook his head. "I don't think that'll be a problem. Nobody wants to be known as the owner that kept a human family apart. People would turn on them, if they were THAT much of a jerk." Stiles looked down at his hands. "But what if they didn't wanna let us to BE a family, in the first place?" Scott sighed. "I don't know. We'd figure it out. Two years 'til I can even let you, anyway, so don't worry, yet." He smirked. "Lydia and Jackson might even be a lot friendlier and easier to deal with in two years, who knows?" It was Stiles' turn to get a distant look on his face. "Yeah. Who knows..." 

He sat up suddenly. "But hey, what about my treat?" Scott looked confused. "What?" Stiles waved his hands. "Said you'd bring me a treat, if I behaved for your dad. So where's my treat?" Scott hid under his pillow. "I said MAYBE..." Stiles whined. "Ugh. Maybe's not even fair. It's like a fishing lure, reeling me in with hope of shiny, tasty awesomeness, but it's all just a fake. NOT FAIR. I want a treat!" Scott sighed from beneath his pillow. "I forgot... Besides, how do I even know you really behaved? Just 'cause my dad didn't specifically mention you getting in trouble, doesn't mean you didn't annoy him all evening." Stiles huffed. "So? I annoy him just breathing, it can't be helped. 'Sides, he annoys me, too. So I need my treat to make up for putting up with HIM this evening." Scott half-laughed. "You're not really helping your case, Stiles..." Stiles clasped his hands together in a pleading gesture. "Come on, Scotty-buddy. PLEASE...?" Scott sighed and reached down to dig in his jacket that he'd thrown on the floor beside his bed. "Got a piece of mint mojito gum in my pocket. That work?" Stiles made grabby hands. "Yeah! Sure! Gimme! Thanks!" Scott sat up, threw it to him, and rolled his eyes. Pets....


	4. Chapter 4

Those few times that Scott needed a pet-sitter, and his parents weren't able to help him out? There was always Malia. 

Malia was more than happy to watch Stiles for him pretty much ANY time, day or night. Malia wanted a pet of her own SO bad, but her dad wouldn't let her have anything except a dog. So she was fascinated with ALL of her friends' humans, but for whatever reason she had taken an especial shine to Stiles. Scott was pretty sure she would have done more than just watch him sometimes - she would have just kept him, if she could've!

It was funny, really, the way she would reach over to pet him, made a point of scooting close to touch him. It had almost unnerved poor Stiles for a while at first, until he got used to it. Which didn't actually take that long! Stiles was a highly tactile creature, so if she wanted to snuggle him and scratch his head, he wasn't really gonna argue with it. Once he stopped being so uneasy around the blunt new werecoyote, he quickly learned to enjoy it. His primary allegiance would always be to Scott, his owner and bestest pal, but he'd soak up all the extra affection he could on the side. If she felt like loving on him, that was no problem. He wouldn't object...! 

Like when Malia marched up one day while the whole gang was outside for lunch at the picnic tables. "Scott. Scoot over. I'm gonna borrow your pet." Caught off guard, it took Scott a minute to think what she was even talking about. "Uh. What?" She didn't answer, but just pulled Stiles up off the seat, sat where he had just been sitting beside Scott, and tugged him back down into her lap, folding her arms around him. "Your pet. I'm borrowing him." Stiles grinned so big he was apt to split his face. "Yep. This is me, the in-demand and sought-after Stiles. I'm a rare and valuable commodity, but no fear, there's plenty of me to go around. Right, Scotty?" Scott just laughed and nodded. "Yeah, sure. Borrow away, Malia..." And she did, tucking him close and squeezing him to her, sniffing his hair. Stiles just closed his eyes and grinned, laying his head on her shoulder, immensely enjoying all the attention. She stroked his neck under his chin. "He's sort of adorable. I might have to steal him, Scott." Scott just watched with an indulgent smile, as she gave him a light squeeze. "I like you, Stiles! I like you a lot." Stiles was eating it up. He cracked one eye back open and grinned at Scott, who grinned back and shook his head. "He's already spoiled, you know. You're gonna ruin him; he'll never behave again." Malia shrugged. "Not like he behaves, anyway. Maybe that's what he needs, more hugs." Stiles' grin only grew wider. "Yeah, Scott. Maybe I'd behave better if you hugged me more." Jackson harrumphed. "Well, I'm for whatever might help that thing act like less of a moron..." Scott frowned. Stiles just grinned harder and stuck his tongue out. "What, you jealous? 'Cause nobody wants to snuggle with you?" Jackson leaned forward menacingly. "ALL OF YOU want to snuggle with me. I'm ALL the pets' favorite to snuggle with." When Stiles snorted, Jackson tried to prove his own point by turning to Allison. "Let me have her back for a minute. You're right here." He plucked Lydia up and made a show of settling her on his knees. She went willingly enough, and leaned back to get comfortable with a pleased smile. Stiles pretended to gag. "Ugh. You know you don't HAVE to, Lydia. I mean, this is the same asshole that shoved you up against a wall. Allison can totally keep you away from him during school hours." Lydia shrugged and examined her fingernails. "He was having a bad day. We're over it. And I'm fine where I am." Stiles kind of wished Scott would claw the smug self-satisfaction off Jackson's face, but forgot everything when Malia started scratching up and down his spine. "Ooooh. Yeah. Right there. And higher, to the left? Guh, keep doing that and I MIGHT let you steal me. Sorry, Scott, but really, she's scratching my back..."

So when the McCalls had a family reunion to go to one weekend, they knew exactly who they would ask to come over and watch Stiles for them. They USED to take their humans with them to those types of functions, at least until the year that Scott and Stiles were both thirteen, when Stiles somehow set the dessert table on fire. Great-grandma McCall had been very kind but candid about the need for their humans to be somewhere else during future gatherings...

And so when Scott found her and told her that his parents would be willing to give her $50 to watch Stiles that weekend, she jumped on it. "Sure! But my dad won't let me bring him home. Stay over at your house with him?" Scott nodded. "Yeah! That'll work. Of course. It'll probably be easier at my house, anyway. Just come by sometime later this afternoon, talk to my mom?" Malia promised to be there after four, after she'd first gone home to tell her dad what was going on.

Rafael and Melissa were both so happy to see her, they could have KISSED her. Actually, Melissa DID kiss her on the cheek. "Malia, THANK YOU. You have no idea how much this means to us. Stiles is such a hard one to find a pet-sitter for, you're a life-saver!" Malia brushed it off. "It's fine. He's fun." Rafael launched into the specifics of the job. "Just keep him in sight, don't let him outside unless you're with him. Basically just don't let him destroy the place." Melissa jumped in with, "No alcohol. And help him clean up after he eats, I don't want food everywhere all over everything." Rafe added, "Might wanna watch him when he brushes his teeth, too." Stiles glared. "I do NOT need to be watched when I brush my teeth anymore. That was ten years ago! TEN!" Malia patted his head. "It's fine. Besides, I'm gonna watch pretty much EVERYTHING you do. You're mine for the weekend." Stiles froze, not sure exactly what that meant...

Scott led the way up to the humans' room. "That's his bed, by the window. Not sure where you wanna sleep. I mean, there's his dad's bed, and mine down the hall. And the couch. Or we could set you something else up..." Malia waved it off. "This'll be fine. Won't it, Stiles?" Stiles spread his open palms uncertainly. "I guess...?" Malia spun around to face the McCalls. "Wait. His dad? Am I watching him, too? That'd be OK, I think. He's a pretty easy human to deal with, right?" Rafe shook his head. "No, we couldn't ask you to watch BOTH of them. Deputy Parrish with the Sheriff's Department is watching the older one for us." Which Stiles had pouted about. Sure, it was just a weekend, but he loved his dad. But Parrish didn't have room for two of them in his apartment, and the McCalls would have felt bad, sticking anybody with BOTH Stilinskis. So the elder had packed a bag, hugged his son, and hopped in Parrish's cruiser. He would miss Stiles, too, but he liked the young Hellhound well enough, and he enjoyed having something to do, helping out around the station. 

Having discussed everything that seemed relevant, and having handed her a key, a fifty, and multiple different "in case of emergency" numbers, the McCalls got ready to leave. Stiles threw his arms around Scott. "Gonna miss you, man." Scott hugged him back. "Miss you, too. But Malia's gonna take good care of you, and we'll be back Sunday evening." Melissa patted the human on the shoulder. "So BEHAVE. Don't give her any trouble, young man." Reassuring them that he really would be on his BEST behavior all weekend, they left...

And after an entire weekend of being under someone else's care, Stiles was overjoyed when they returned late Sunday night. He was even kind of half-happy to see "Agent McBoring". He pretty much THREW himself at Scott when they walked in. "SCOTT! Oh, my gosh, you're back! How was it?" And switching to a whisper - "Save me!" Scott grinned and thumped him on the back. "Was good! My cousins from Oregon? They brought their pet boa constrictor. You'd have loved it!" Stiles paused. "Whoa. That is cool. They feed it mice? I could do that." Completely straight-faced, Rafe asked, "Do what, eat live mice? Didn't think you were that kind of pet, Stiles." Scott and Malia laughed at the face of disgusted horror of Stiles made.

Melissa got back to business, asking, "So, everything was fine? We never heard from you this weekend, we just ASSUMED everything was fine." (Scott, of course, had heard from Stiles. His pet had only texted him twenty dozen times over the course of the weekend. Being busy, though, he'd only responded to a couple of them.) Malia nodded. "Yeah, he was great. Something's seriously wrong with him, though. He doesn't like deer jerky." Melissa patted him on the shoulder. "Always was a picky eater. But here, let me give you a ride home." Rafe nodded. "I'll go with you. We gotta swing by the station and pick up the other one, too..."

Up in Scott's room, Stiles splayed out on Scott's bed. "Dude. SO glad you're back. Think I've met my snuggle quota for the YEAR. Or a couple years." Scott finished putting his stuff away that he'd brought back. "Yeah? So, how'd it go? What did you two do?" Stiles sighed. "I mean, it was mostly good. She walked me to the store last night 'cause we ran out of cheese. But other than that, we just sat around here. She tried to snuggle me to death. Death by cuddle." Scott kicked off his shoes and lay beside him. "Thought you liked her loving on you?" Stiles played with a penny he'd grabbed off the floor. "I did. For the first twenty-nine hours. Then I was kind of done." He turned over to look more fully at Scott. "She followed me into the bathroom. Sat on the counter while I took a shower, so I got undressed behind the curtain. She threw a towel and my clothes over the rod when I was done. Said because your dad said to keep me in sight. But even your dad trusts me enough to take a shower!" Scott smiled wryly. "Guess 'cause she's never pet-sat a human, before. She was pretty enthusiastic about it..." Stiles snorted. "Don't worry. She definitely took the responsibility seriously enough." Stiles stared at the ceiling. "She's always the BIG spoon. Always." Scott folded his arms behind his head. "I mean, that sounds OK." Stiles continued staring at the ceiling for a minute, before closing his eyes and smiling. "Yeah. It mostly is." 

Scott eyed him suspiciously. "Come here, then." In one swift motion, he wrapped his arms around Stiles and rolled them both on their sides. Stiles squawked. "Wha!" Scott just pulled him closer. "Well, I can't let her out-love my own pet. I mean, you're mine. You're part of MY pack. I gotta take care of you." Stiles half-heartedly tried to wiggle out of Scott's grasp. "But... dude. Quota MET, I said!" Scott just smiled and hooked a leg over Stiles', causing him to huff and wiggle more. "I don't-" Scott interrupted. "You're griping 'cause you're mad you were stuck in the house without me while I had fun. But I'm back, and there's school tomorrow, so just be still and go to sleep." Stiles grumbled something under his breath and settled down. He wasn't enjoying this, he wasn't, didn't need all this swaddling and babying... "Yes, you do." Stiles stiffened. "I said that out loud?" "Yeah. You say EVERYTHING out loud. So just enjoy it, man." Scott's human sighed, muttering, "Fine. But I'm only doing this for YOU. What a life, manhandled by all these touchy-feely werewolves. No trust, no personal-space boundary bubbles. Bet the boa constrictor gets more respect than I do." Scott grinned. "Probably. The constrictor's dangerous. It could kill somebody if it was hungry and desperate enough. Could you?" Stiles flapped a hand. "Totally! That's why y'all watch me so close. I'm a perilous, hazardous threat." From the living room came Melissa and Rafe's voices, having just got back with Stiles' dad. "AMEN!" "He speaks truth!" Scott laughed, while Stiles just let his mouth hang open. "Freaking werewolf super-senses... See what I mean? No respect..."


	5. Chapter 5

Many of Scott and Stiles' biggest and most interesting adventures involved the Hales. Peter, Derek, and Cora were strong contenders for "Most Dysfunctional Family Ever", and there didn't seem to be anyone that fully trusted Peter, whose name seemed to somehow wind up loosely connected to just about every major criminal happening in the area. But Scott and Derek had met and gotten fairly close a year or so before during a territory dispute around the Preserve - because Scott was exactly the kind of guy that WOULD use a local political controversy as an opportunity to make friends. A certain level of familiarity with Peter and a casual acquaintance with Cora were just part of the package that came with befriending Derek. Stiles, however, was terrified of them.

Scott tried his best to reason with Stiles and explain that the Hales weren't threats, that they were mostly decent and cool people, even if Peter DID come off a bit shady (and was probably involved in stuff nobody really wanted to know about). But Stiles didn't care. They were SCARY.

"They're gonna bite me, man. I just know it. Once of these days you're gonna drag me over there, and one of 'em's gonna take a chomp out of my face. That what you want, Scott? A pet with half a face? 'Cause that's what you're gonna have!" Scott rolled his eyes. "Nobody's gonna bite you. If anybody ever tries, I PROMISE I'll defend you. I'd bite them, first. Except they're not going to." Stiles always argued this point. "But how do you KNOW? I'm telling you, something's not right with them. Peter especially, I think he's got something unhinged up there. And Derek never even smiles, always just that same broody glare-scowl. They don't like me, Scott!" Trying to think of ANYTHING to say that might get his human to relax, Scott just sighed. "They have their issues, yes. But I wouldn't have you around people I thought were truly dangerous. And Derek's just not a very expressive guy. He's not frowning at you, that's just his normal face. Not everybody walks around smiling all the time." Stiles wouldn't be deterred. "What about Cora? You can't even defend HER face, 'cause she DEFINITELY frowns at everybody. Straight-up frowns just about 24/7. Makes me nervous, dude..." Scott rubbed a hand down his face. "Cora's just... I don't know. I don't even really hang out with her, she's just there sometimes. But she's not out to bite you!" The longer the discussion would go on, the more entrenched in his conclusions Stiles would get. "She totally IS out to bite me. Never seen the way she bares her teeth at me? Her and Peter, both! And Derek? You HEARD him threaten to rip my throat out!" Scott closed his eyes. "That was a figure of speech, he was just trying to get you to understand how annoying you were being. He wasn't actually SERIOUS." Stiles sniffed. "Oh. So threatening humans is an acceptable strategy for calming 'em down? Even when feeling threatened is WHY they're not calm? That's smart, real smart. Makes a lot of sense. Somebody patent that method, it'll make a fortune!"

The Hales didn't have any pets. It wasn't just that they didn't have any humans - they didn't have any dogs, cats, birds, or fish, either. No turtles, lizards, hamsters, gerbils, ferrets, or anything else. That fact, alone, was enough to make Stiles uneasy, because it meant that if the werewolves were busy doing werewolf stuff, then Stiles was just sitting there, with no one else to share his discomfort with - and misery needs company. "It's not NORMAL, Scott. What kind of household has no pets? What kind of werewolves want to live like that?" Scott shrugged. "Them, apparently." Stiles flailed, distraught. "EXACTLY! The creepy pack. THEY don't have pets. Probably because they don't like them. And if they don't like pets, that means they don't like ME. I'm a pet!" Scott always tried to be soothing. "It doesn't mean they don't like you. It probably just means they don't feel like taking care of something all the time. You pets are a lot of responsibility. Not everyone's ready to commit to that?" Stiles was too wound up to snark about that, and rambled on with, "Or maybe they'd just EAT a pet, and they don't wanna face public censure for it, so they don't have any. Maybe they USED to have pets, but they ate 'em all!" Scott stared in disbelief. "Stiles. You don't really believe that?" Stiles danced in place, agitated. "OK, they haven't eaten anybody YET. But they probably would, and they know it, so they scare other people's pets off so they won't be tempted to!" Scott shook his head, before patting Stiles' shoulder. In a tone of utter resignation, he reiterated, "Nobody's eating you, Stiles. I won't let them. I promise..."

The constant back-and-forth exchange of "Alpha" status within the Hale pack didn't exactly make Stiles comfortable around them, either. Derek and Peter were forever in conflict over it, and were so equally matched in strength and combat skills that their fights were pretty much always even odds. One would be Alpha for a few weeks, then the other for a month, then the other again for another couple weeks. It was anyone's guess which of them would be wearing the red eyes on any given day. Scott, naturally, always kind of secretly rooted for his friend. Stiles didn't care, just so long as they could wait to have their bloody challenge showdowns when he wasn't around!

Because while it was true that werewolves were violent creatures that DID fight often, they generally put forth SOME effort into keeping it away from the humans. Precious humans were so very fragile and delicate that no one wanted to risk hurting one. History had seen more than one fight stopped cold after a human had been accidentally injured. It was actually a small part of the reason werewolves kept humans - to care for them, yes, but also as valuable reminders to keep animal natures in check, so that there could be seasons of peace once in a while. Derek and Peter's ongoing feud, though, barely paused even for humans. The unremitting tension between them was palpable even on the best of days, and their most infamous battle had been such a spontaneous public explosion that they hadn't even noticed the five humans in the vicinity. THAT incident had actually made the papers!

It made Stiles extraordinarily nervous, whenever they started up flashing eyes and teeth. Anytime their mutual animosity flared up even the tiniest, Stiles took it as his cue to leave. To FLEE. Most of the time fleeing tucked him safely behind Scott's back, or into a closet or other convenient place to hide. When none of those was a viable option, he sometimes just plain RAN.

Running away without his owner wasn't exactly the smartest idea Stiles ever had, but the sudden jolt he got when Peter and Derek let out twin roars at each other nearly sent him into a panic attack, and the sickening flood of adrenaline forced him to do SOMETHING. Being outside where there were no other rooms to hide in, and with both Scott and the jeep on the other side of them, Stiles just let instinct drive him, and took off. Under normal circumstances, Scott would have been able to reach out and nab him almost instantly; even if he had to chase after Stiles, it shouldn't have taken long at all, not with werewolf speed and reflexes. But in all the chaos of Peter and Derek loudly making plain their desire to disembowel each other, it took Scott a minute to even register the lack of Stiles. And when he DID realize it, it took him yet another minute to realize that Stiles wasn't just hiding behind something, but was actually GONE. "Stiles? Stiles, where'd you go?" Not getting a response, Scott strained his senses in search of his pet, but could neither smell nor hear him. "Stiles...?" Scott stood there confused for a few seconds, looking for all the world like a lost puppy. "Stiles? Guys... Guys, I think... I think he took off!"

Peter snarled in annoyance. "Then find him? You're the werewolf, go get him!" Scott sniffed around wildly, eyes glowing in desperation, trying to spot a human form in the shadows of the trees all around them. "I... I can't! His smell fades out, and I don't see anything big enough to be him! It's like he's disappeared!" Derek sighed. "Then he crossed the creek. Stiles has had time enough to get probably almost a quarter-mile into the woods, and if he's tripped and fallen into the creek, it'll dilute his scent, some. I'll help you find him." Peter smirked. "I suppose I can stay here, grab your twitchy little friend for you if he comes back." Scott yelled out a "THANK YOU!" as he ran into the woods, while Derek took off in a slightly different direction.

A couple hours later, though, and Stiles was still missing, and Derek was annoyed. "I'm not gonna spend all evening searching for your pet, Scott. If you can't find him, then just start CALLING people. Maybe someone else has seen him." Scott froze. "Oh, yeah! Phone!" He pulled it out of his pocket and called Stiles. He got no answer at first, and kept trying. Stiles finally answered the fifth time. "Scott?" Scott went limp with relief. "Stiles! Where are you?" A pause. "Umm... In the woods? Beside a bush with pointy leaves? I don't know." Scott rubbed his temple. "Anything that could help me actually find you?" Stiles blew out heavily, looking around. "Um... Yeah! There's this ginormous tree stump up ahead. Like, REALLY big. Huge. Probably the biggest stump I've ever seen. And the dirt's kind of got an orangish tint to it around here? I have no idea, man..." Scott nodded. "OK. Just... sit down on the stump. And STAY there. I'll be there to get you just as soon as we figure out where you are. But Stiles, STAY THERE, okay? Don't run off again." Stiles was in wholehearted agreement. "OK. Staying here, on the stump. Totally not moving, just waiting on you to find me. Got it..."

After telling Derek what Stiles had described, Scott concluded that his human must be sitting on "the Nemeton" - an enormous oak stump that local New Age-type fans of occultish stuff swore was some sort of powerful spiritual center, or something. Supposedly it was the "beacon" of Beacon Hills - or so they said. Scott didn't quite believe all the hype, but he did know that for whatever reason, werewolves' powers tended not to be quite as sharp close to it. Something about the area surrounding it dampened their senses down to not much above human levels - and that meant that it only took LONGER to find it. They could tell when they were close, but what direction was it? Not being able to use their ears or noses the way they usually did was almost disorienting, and they may have made several repeating circles in their search...

And so another half-hour went by before they finally found a Stiles that was still slightly wet, who sat huddled in on himself, clutching his dead phone as the sky grew darker and the wind, colder. "STILES! Hey! Oh, man, don't you EVER run off like that!" Scott grabbed his pet human up in the fiercest of hugs. "I totally freaked. I looked around, and you were just GONE. Scared I was gonna find you dead in a hole, or something." Derek looked up at the stars that were just beginning to peek out. "This? Is why I don't have pets. Don't have to waste hours tracking them down..." Of course, neither teenager paid him any mind. Stiles wrapped himself around Scott like an octopus, greedily drinking in his warmth. "It's c-c-c-cold out here. What t-took s-s-so long?" Derek muttered something about stupid, ungrateful pets, while Scott just threw his jacket around Stiles' shoulders and started walking back to where the jeep was parked, rubbing at his human's back and arms. "Hey, you're the one that ran off and had to be found. You slipped and fell in the creek, right?" Stiles nodded, teeth chattering. "Well, that made it harder to sniff you out. Plus, it's just harder to sense anything around here, anyway." Stiles looked back at the giant stump he had been sitting on. "Oh. Th-that's th-the Nemeton?" Scott nodded. "Yeah." Stiles frowned, and sounded disappointed. "Not as c-cool as I th-thought it'd be. Wasn't m-magical or mystical or anything. Just a b-big st-stump..."

Derek texted Peter (who had given up and gone home after the first fruitless hour) and told him that Stiles had been found. "He says yay, now put a collar and leash with bells on him so he won't get away again." Stiles glared. "N-not a d-dog. I'm hu-human. Assholes." Derek shrugged. "Could've fooled me." Stiles flipped him a finger...

That was hardly the only time Stiles ever turned up missing. Apparently, whenever he was particularly stressed - or sometimes just randomly - Stiles was becoming prone to sleepwalking. It didn't happen every night, but it wasn't rare, either. It happened maybe once or twice a month. In a house with three werewolves, usually someone would hear him get up, and guide him back to bed. Occasionally, though, he would somehow manage to slip out, and Scott would find himself searching the neighborhood for his pet in the dark before sunrise. A couple times he found Stiles out in the woods behind the house, once in a parking lot three blocks away, once all the way out near the human clinic, and once on the edge of a neighbor's pool. (Of course, it was Scott that wound up falling in while trying to lead him away, though.)

Had Scott not been a werewolf, it would have given him ulcers. He stayed in knots, ever worried about the human under his charge. His parents sometimes thought he might actually be a little TOO concerned with his pet. They were proud, of course, that he took his responsibilities seriously, but they didn't want him to walk around with the world on his shoulders, all on account of an annoying creature that couldn't be counted on to stay in bed once put there. Scott thought the solution was to have Stiles sleep with him as often as feasible, but that was hardly the best of ideas on school nights (especially when there would be tests the next day) because Stiles kicked and wiggled too much for Scott to actually get much rest in the same bed with him. Stiles' father could sleep through it (having dealt with Stiles' perpetual motion all the kid's life), but that was exactly why bedding the young human with him wasn't very helpful - because Stiles could FALL out of bed with a loud thump and then take off running, and his dad would never wake. Mr. McCall advised Scott to seriously consider Peter's bell-collar idea. "But Dad, that was a joke!" Rafael shrugged. "And for a pet this difficult? Not a bad idea. He wouldn't need to wear it all the time, just at night."

Scott dismissed the notion, but Rafael, tired of being woken up at all ungodly hours to help Scott look for his pet, went ahead and bought one and gave it to Scott. (AFTER Melissa took the first one back to the store. She traded the purple one with yellow hearts that Rafe had grabbed without thinking for a plain black one. She knew how THAT suggestion would go over!) Come dark, Scott nervously showed it to Stiles, telling him what the idea was. Stiles, predictably, was not happy with it. "What?! No! Screw that. I'm not a CAT, I'm a human! I don't need a stupid bell on my neck!!!" Scott bit his lip and twirled it. "I know. But you need SOMETHING. You keep wandering off in the night, and you could get hurt. Makes us worried about you, Stiles." Stiles huffed. "So let's think of something else, besides belling me like a pet that walks on all fours. I'm a THINKING pet, the kind that sometimes finds stuff humiliating?" Scott frowned. "It's just for at night. Not like you gotta walk around town with it on, or go to school with it." Stiles shuddered. "NO! Stupid bell would dingle all night, every time I rolled over. That would keep ME up. How am I supposed to actually sleep like that?" Scott thought about it for a moment. "Maybe if we put it somewhere besides your neck? Like around your arm, or your ankle..." Stiles glared. "No. 'Sides, it'll ding no matter what part of me you attach it to. So NO." He stuck his tongue out for emphasis.

Their dads walked around the corner at exactly that moment. Mr. McCall was as cool and calm as ever. "Put your tongue up, Stiles. Scott, is this how you let your pet talk to you? Just let him tell you 'No'?" Scott sighed. "He doesn't wanna wear it. And I can't really blame him." Rafael folded his arms. "And I don't want you out roaming the streets looking for him at 3:00am every other week. Do  **I** need to be the one to hold him down and put it on him every night?" Stiles' eyes got wide, and he started backing up. "Whoa. No. Hold up. Scott, tell your dad we got it, we'll figure this out..." Stiles' dad started looking concerned. "Rafe, wait. I mean, does he REALLY need it? Just lock our door at night, or something." Rafael shook his head. "We're trying to ensure his safety. Making it impossible for you two to get out in an emergency would not be safer." He reached for the collar in Scott's hand. "Had about enough of your pet's mouth and defiance, anyway. Think of it as a character-building exercise, Stiles." Stiles scrambled backwards, knocking a chair over before slamming himself into the wall. "Wait! No. Please, I'll do whatever Scott comes up with! Just don't - _Scott!_ " Stiles whined, flailing and squirming in Rafael's arms. "Let go of me! Scott! Dad!" Stiles windmilled his arms, trying to get away. "I'm just gonna take it off again, anyway, so why bother? Please!" Rafael never missed a beat. "You take it off, and I'll LOCK it on you. Don't even try, Stiles." Stiles squawked and struggled, while his dad stood over to the side, watching uncertainly, rubbing the back of his neck... 

A few minutes later, Mr. McCall had gone to bed, and Stiles sat pouting on the floor behind Scott, collar securely affixed with a variety of wires and tapes around it preventing him from removing it. Scott sighed. "Sorry?" Stiles ignored him. Scott sighed again, and plopped down beside him. "I mean, we'll take it off in the morning. It's just so you're easier to find, if you disappear in the night." Stiles stared at the far wall, resolutely saying NOTHING. Scott pulled him to him. "Told Dad you wouldn't like it." Stiles gave up on not speaking. "Yeah, 'cause your dad SUCKS." He sniffed. "Oughta grab HIM, wrap stuff around HIS neck. See how HE likes it." Scott smirked. "Uh, huh. Sure. Like to see you try." Stiles squinted at him. "Don't rub it in, just 'cause you're stronger than me..."

Nearly a week of the same scene each night and of a grouchy Stiles each morning went by, before a better idea struck Scott. "Wait! Dad, I got it! We can just put bells on all the doors! On the doorknobs, on both sides! Every door in the house! Except maybe the bathrooms. We could even put bells on the windows, in case he opened THEM! More than one, big ones, ones we'd be sure we'd all hear if he tried to leave. Then he wouldn't have to wear anything, and we'd know it immediately if he left, without all the false alarms when the bell tinks while he's flopping in his sleep. Yeah?" Stiles nodded in furious agreement from where he lay pinned on the floor beneath Rafael's knee. "Yeah! Totally! Bells on the doors! Please!" Mr. McCall gazed thoughtfully down at the pet he had just been struggling to collar. "I ought to make you wear this just for resisting so much..." Stiles shook his head. "No! I mean, I won't HAVE anything to resist. Scott's idea, let's do it. Please?" Stiles' dad was perched on Scott's chair, watching the show, keeping his mouth shut. But Melissa piped up, "That... might work. We could try it, anyway. I say we give it a shot, just to spare ourselves all this misery every evening." Rafael let Stiles up, and watched as he jumped up to hide behind Scott. "Then Scott? If that's what you wanna do, then you go to the store NOW, get these bells and hang them TONIGHT. I paid for the collar, but you've got a job, so you'll pay for anything else you wanna use." Scott and Stiles shot up and ran to start putting shoes on. "Yes! Yes, sir. Be back in just a few!" The adults listened to the door slam, and the jeep pull out. Rafael shook his head and turned to look at Stiles' dad, who threw his hands up defensively. "Don't look at me! I don't sleepwalk!"

The three golfball-sized jingle bells that Scott hung on both sides of every door with green shoelaces DID work. Sleepwalking-Stiles could be apprehended before ever reaching the bottom of the stairs, without having to wear the hated collar. They all slept a little better after that, and life was more or less peaceful again...

At least until Derek came by a couple weeks later. "Scott, why are there bells on all your doors?" Stiles threw a book across the room in mortification. "And what the hell's your pet's problem?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one actually has a little PLOT! :)

The entire area was in an uproar. After so many years of being gone, Deucalion and his pack were back in town, and all the territory border disputes and petty pack tiffs in the time between combined had been MILD, compared with the all-out war Deucalion waged on his return. With a stronger pack than he'd ever had before, he was determined to claim all of Beacon County as part of his territory, and life for everyone was turned upside down, for a time. School was cancelled most days, as was just about every variety of work that wasn't absolutely essential for society to function. The only person to profit through it was Alan Deaton, whose office stayed busy at all hours, treating werewolves whose injuries were too severe for their natural healing powers to handle. Deaton was making a small fortune, but everyone quietly wondered if he'd survive long enough to enjoy it. It seemed probable that he might just keel over from sheer exhaustion, with as little sleep as he was getting...

  
The humans? They were all terrified, petrified, horrified nervous wrecks. They didn't understand it, but only vaguely grasped that it was some sort of werewolf political upheaval, involving someone that loomed large, named Deucalion. All they knew was that this guy was somehow the reason why everything was closed, why their quiet routines were all disturbed and out of order, and why their owners all kept coming home hurt so bad that it took them hours to heal. None of the humans quite knew what to do with themselves, because they were frightened senseless. Lydia spent hours laying in bed muttering nonsense to herself, Jared heaved his guts up at every turn, Greenburg ran around in circles hyperventilating, bumping into stuff, and making messes, and Stiles' father sat stiff and serious, interrogating everyone that walked past.

  
Stiles? Stiles just talked. He couldn't think what to make of any of it, so he just kept up a running commentary on everything, hoping he could talk himself into comprehending some part of it. With everyone distracted, he was going to eat himself into a junk-food coma, so Scott eventually (out of sheer desperation) asked PETER, of all people, to pet-sit for him. Stiles loudly objected to being watched by one of the scariest werewolves he knew, but there wasn't much for it. Almost everyone else was busy with the battle at the bank, and Scott would be needed down there as soon as possible. Malia and her father were warding off an attack on the other side of town, so she couldn't watch him, and the Whittemores were trying to help on the south end of town. So Peter, just about the only werewolf in town NOT fighting that night, found himself being charged by Derek (Hale alpha that week) with the care and keeping of Stiles and Lydia.

  
"I'm ten TIMES the experienced fighter most of these teenaged punks you're leading out are. I'm actually old enough to remember Deucalion from before he left; you NEED me, Derek. Somebody else can sit home and watch your friends' humans. YOU watch them!" Derek was in his face instantly, claws at his throat. "No, YOU'RE watching them, Peter. No one needs your manipulative bullshit tonight, not with Beacon Hills all but burning all around us. I need people with me that will WATCH my back, not try to stab it before Deucalion's pack even has a chance! So you're staying here, _beta_ , and taking good care of Scott and Jackson's pets. Understand?" He pushed Peter down onto his knees, squeezing his gullet just to emphasize the point. "Got it?" Peter snarled, eyes full of disdain. "Yeah, I got it, _Alpha_. God, if Talia could see you now. Wouldn't she be proud of her power-tripping baby boy!" Derek slammed Peter's head back into the wall. "Like she'd be any prouder of YOU, her two-faced baby brother. So get up, watch these humans. We're taking it out of your hide if anything happens to them."

  
So Derek, Scott, and Jackson left, to Peter's growls and Stiles' and Lydia's piteous wails of protest. (She was scared of Peter, too.) The loft door slammed shut, and sudden silence reigned.

  
Peter sighed, and turned to the bug-eyed young humans. "Well? Sit down. Hope you brought homework to do, because Derek doesn't have a TV, and I'm not entertaining you." He grabbed a drink out of the refrigerator and plopped down, doing something with his phone. Stiles and Lydia looked at each other nervously, and scooted away to huddle together under the windows. They did have homework, but Stiles hadn't brought his. Lydia, in her haste, had grabbed the wrong schoolbook, but she DID bring her laptop, so the two of them tried to find something to look at pertaining to their upcoming physics project, even though their hearts weren't really in it. At any other time, Stiles would have been elated at the chance to sit so close, with his side pressed up along Lydia's, but tonight, he was just too freaked out to properly enjoy it...

  
Busy trying to read something about electrified hydrogen ions with inverted charges whilst chewing his pen to a pulp, it took Stiles several minutes to realize that Lydia was crying silently beside him. "Lydia? You're crying. Lydia, Lydia it's OK, what's wrong? I mean, EVERYTHING'S wrong, but why are you crying?" Lydia hid her face in her hands. "I'm crying? I'm crying. Don't even look at me..." Stiles set the computer down. "Whoa. Why not? You're kind of beautiful when you're crying - actually, you're really just beautiful ALL the time, but the big wet eyes are gorgeous, same way ALL of you's gorgeous... But wait. Crying. Why?" Lydia hid her face in Stiles' shoulder, whispering, "Peter." Stiles, reminded, shuddered at that. He whispered back, "Yeah. Douche-wolf's gonna bite me one of these days, I freaking know it. Don't know why Scott left me with him." Lydia shook her head. "He's gonna get ME. I keep having this dream where he claws me up on the field outside school. Shreds me to ribbons, leaves me to bleed out, Jackson finds me and runs me to the clinic. I think he's gonna do it, what if he does it tonight...?" Stiles hugged her, tried to be brave. "Well, he'll have to get me, first!"

  
Peter, with his werewolf hearing, snorted from the couch across the room. "And just WHY do you humans think I'd want to waste my time attacking weak insects like you? Especially with a REAL fight of consequence going on in multiple places across town?" Stiles, all mouth and no sense, lipped, "Because you're a psychotic DICK, that's why. Or maybe just to piss Derek off." Peter strode menacingly over to them. "Or maybe to teach maggots their place. Shut it while you're ahead, _PET_. You don't even know how LUCKY you are that I'm watching you. Scott could stake you to a tree in the backyard and be done with it!" Stiles gaped. "He would not!" Peter rolled his eyes and walked back to the couch. "Maybe he should." After a moment of trying to calm down his heartrate, Stiles turned to Lydia, who sat chewing her knuckles and trembling. "I don't think he likes me. Maybe I scare him." Peter laughed...

  
A couple hours went by, and eventually most of their fear was replaced by hunger. Stiles wasn't always the best-behaved pet, but he did know better than to go digging through other people's kitchens. Melissa had drilled that one into him as a child, that he had to ask before eating anything at anyone else's house. He didn't really want to ask Peter for ANYTHING, though, so he put it off until he heard Lydia's stomach grumbling, and thought his own stomach might just eat HIM. Then the whining began.

  
"Hey, Peter. I'm hungry." He was ignored, at first. "Peter. I'm hungry, Peter." Pause. "Peeeterrrr. I'm hungry..." Peter sighed. "And I'm busy and annoyed. Now we know how the other feels." Stiles glared. "It's been hours. I want FOOD. Feeding us is part of taking care of us, so feed us." Peter kept his eyes on his book he was making notes in. "Such a polite pet. Whiny and demanding. Real charmer, you are." Stiles huffed. "PLEASE feed us? So you don't have to explain to our owners why we shriveled up and died of starvation...." Setting his book aside, Peter sighed deeply as he grabbed a box of crackers and a couple bananas out of the kitchen. "You're not going to starve, though you MIGHT die tonight, if you don't learn some manners. Here." He dropped the edible items in Stiles' lap, and stood there watching as they began scarfing it down. (Well, Stiles scarfed it. Lydia was a bit more refined and delicate with her eating.) "I guess it would be too much to expect a 'thank you', wouldn't it?." Stiles curled in on himself, but squinted at him all the same. "Yeah. Thanks."

  
A few minutes later: "Hey. Um, Peter? We're uh... We're still hungry." Peter didn't care. "Tough." Stiles frowned and fidgeted. "But dude, you're supposed to take CARE of us, and we're hungry. Please?" Peter got up and began rummaging through the kitchen. "Oh. Well. At least you said please without prompting, this time. Might be hope for you yet, pet..." Stiles frowned at him. Peter bumped and thumped, slamming cabinets and muttering to himself. "There's a war going on out there, and I'm making sandwiches for ungrateful pets. Derek can kiss my sweet ass, little boy out playing at being Alpha..." He set two peanut butter sandwiches and two glasses of water in front of them. "That's all you get, quit asking." He stalked off to go check his phone again for the twelve-thousandth time...

  
Stiles and Lydia checked theirs, too. No one had heard anything from anyone since Derek, Scott, and Jackson had left, but that hadn't stopped the humans from trying to communicate with their owners. Stiles had only sent at least half a dozen texts, all very similar. " _Are you OK? Still fighting? We're OK. Peter hasn't eaten us yet. He gave us some crackers. He's a Scrooge with the food. Lydia's scared. Jerk won't even talk to us. Hope you're OK. Wish you'd brought me with you to help._ " Lydia had sent several to Jackson, too. " _When are you coming back? Miss you. Don't get too hurt in the fighting. Who's winning? Hope it's you. You and Scott are strong, I know you'll win. I want you to come back. Peter's awful and I like you better. He didn't even ask me what I wanted to eat, but just threw food in Stiles' lap. Please don't leave me here long._ "

  
A couple more hours went by. Stiles was still hungry, but Peter had sounded almost angry when he'd said not to ask for anything else, so Stiles wasn't going to risk it. He and Lydia had read just about everything they could find online to read about electricity at the molecular level, and had started to get kind of bored. Lydia wound up falling asleep on Stiles, something that, with Peter no longer actively creeping him out, he began to really appreciate. He grinned nervously, eyeing the warm body leaning against his own, and SERIOUSLY considered kissing her. He didn't, though. She would probably wake up if he did, and that would just be awkward. Didn't stop him from thinking about it, though...

  
Stiles began to wonder more and more what was going on with their owners. Were they still fighting? Were they still down near the bank? Would they be coming back soon? WHAT WAS GOING ON? He was getting anxious with all the not knowing, but then Peter got up and went upstairs, and that was when _An Idea_ hit him.

  
He turned to Lydia, still asleep beside him, and whisper-shouted, "Hey! Lydia! Wake up! Lydia!" She jerked upright and blinked. "What...?" He shushed her. "Hey. Peter's upstairs, now's our chance! Let's go!" He was already up and headed towards the door. Lydia panicked. "Wait! Go where? Where are we going?" He shushed her again. "Sshhh! Out! Away!" Lydia wasn't reassured. "But where? Where are we gonna go? There's no one at either of our houses, and almost everybody's out fighting. We're not going to the fighting!" Stiles paused and considered a moment. "The Sheriff's station! Deputy Parrish is on duty tonight. Scott's dad left MY dad with him. We'll go there!" Lydia remained unsure. "But won't they come looking for us here at Peter's? Won't they be upset when we're not here?" Stiles shook his head. "Nah. They know Peter's scary, nobody wants to stay here with him. And Parrish'll let 'em know he's got us. It'll be fine. Now let's GO, before we run out of time and lose our chance!" But Lydia kept stalling. "I... I don't know. No. No, I don't think so. It's not safe out there. Peter's scary, but all the werewolves fighting around town are a nightmare. I'm staying right here." She plopped back down on the floor.

  
Stiles began to panic. "Oh, come on! We HAVE to! He comes back downstairs, and we won't be able to anymore! Come on, we can get out of here, go find Scott and Jackson. Maybe they need us? Maybe we can help! If nothing else, we can just go hang out with my dad. Sheriff's station always has something going on, and Parrish will actually feed us! He keeps stuff in the fridge down there, and candy in his drawer. There's only a MILLION reasons, come on!" Lydia shook her head. "Nope. Not going anywhere. Besides, Jackson knew I didn't wanna come here, so he promised he'd watch "The Notebook" with me AND let me pick out his shirts all next week if I behaved. Leaving would NOT be behaving, so no." Stiles flapped his arms in desperation. "SO? I'll watch it with you, and you can pick out MY shirts. Everyone's happy. Come on!" Lydia was adamant. "Nope." Stiles sucked in a breath, and let it out slow. "Lydia. You get your cute little butt up and come with me, or... Or I'll just go by myself, and leave you here with Peter. So come on!" Lydia's jaw dropped. "No, you wouldn't." Stiles turned and started for the door. "I would, and I am. See? Here I go, leaving." He was halfway out the door...

  
"WAIT!" Lydia practically screeched. "Wait! You can't leave me alone with Peter. OK, OK, I'll go! Hold on!" She chased him out the door and into the elevator. "We're gonna regret this, aren't we?" Stiles shrugged. "Maybe. But I grabbed his car keys on the way out!" Lydia's eyes got huge. "Stiles! He's gonna be SO mad. Go put those back!" Stiles shoved them in his pocket. "No way! If he gets mad when we're already down at the station, then we're safe. I walk back in while he's mad, and how's THAT gonna go? Nope. To the station!" Lydia huffed. "Well, fine. But I wanna drive!" Stiles looked at her, surprised. "Do you even know how? Scott's been teaching me some. Pretty sure I make the best left-turn circles of any human, ever." Lydia gave HIM a look. "Well, I've actually driven in a straight line, before. All the way down the driveway to the mailbox!" Stiles was more than a little impressed. "Whoa. That close to the house? And your driveway's an incline! You drive DOWNHILL?" Lydia flipped her hair behind her. "Of course. I have mastered braking. AND I read Jackson's driving test study booklet, so I know all about signs, lights, and road markings, too. So I'm driving." Stiles handed her the keys, nodding in solemn agreement. "Totally. But if we come across any left-hand turns, better let me take those." She nodded. "I guess. Since I've never done those..."

  
They made it to the Sheriff's station parking lot, after a twelve-minute wild ride in which they hit about six potholes and two mailboxes, and only swerved across the lines thrice (narrowly missing oncoming traffic!). They scraped the curb four times, but really, the scratches in the paint weren't even all that big or deep, so they counted it a win. Stiles just couldn't get over it. "YES! Oh, man. Lydia, that was AWESOME! I mean, YOU were awesome! Drove that car just like a werewolf, all the way across town! Lydia, you... you gotta be my breeding partner when we're old enough. Gorgeous, genius girl that can DRIVE? Lydia, I'm so in love with you, for real..." He froze, realizing that he'd just bared his heart and deepest desire TO that desire. Lydia just toyed with her hair, self-satisfied smile on her face. "I did do pretty good, didn't I?" She looked smug for a moment, before looking up at Stiles through her lashes, her hips and ankles held at just such an angle, in a way that couldn't possibly be natural, but HAD to be flirting. "As for breeding partners...? Hmm. We'll see." And with that, she sauntered off towards the main entrance to the station, the heels of her highly impractical shoes clicking like castanets with every step. Stiles stared after her in amazement, admiring the view, whispering to himself, "Pretty sure she just said maybe - sounded a lot like maybe...!" He pumped a fist in the air and chased after her.

  
They walked into a station that was in utter chaos. Between the cells stuffed full of too many inmates, the deputies' shouts as they ran back and forth, and the squawking of the radio, they managed to put together at least PART of the story of what was happening. In all the craziness of the war with Deucalion's pack, some of the weaker werewolves from the poorer side of town were using the distraction as a golden opportunity to burgle unattended businesses. When they were caught at it, a small riot broke out, and now deputies were leaving their pack borders to come deal with the lawbreakers, leaving their families to fight even harder for their territories. Everyone was angry at the band of criminals for taking advantage of the sorry situation, and for putting the town at even MORE risk than it already was. Stiles and Lydia just looked at each other. They couldn't find Deputy Parrish, and they didn't want to stand around until someone noticed the humans and maybe returned them to Peter, so they raided Parrish's desk drawers and did a little burgling of their own (his candy stash) before hiding in the empty Sheriff's office, that had a door and blinds they could close.

  
Stiles draped himself across three chairs. "Where's Parrish? And my dad? This isn't near as much fun without them..." Lydia grabbed the cushion off the desk chair and hugged it to her, sighing deeply. "Told you this wasn't a good idea." Stiles looked miffed. "Was a GREAT idea. People just aren't where I thought they'd be. And hey, we got candy out of the deal!" Lydia threw her head back, and used one foot to spin the chair around. "There is that. AND we're away from Peter." There was quiet for a moment, before Lydia's lip trembled. "Somebody's gonna come looking for us." Stiles fiddled with the cord to the blinds. "Well, yeah. They always do. Probably gonna be Scott. He's always looking for me." Lydia clutched the chair cushion in her arms. "What if it's Peter?" Stiles shook his head. "Nah. I'm not worried about it. We're at the Sheriff's station. If he goes crazy and tries to attack us, we can just holler, and everybody will run in and rescue us." Lydia sniffed and got comfortable...

  
Several minutes went by. They finished off the sack of candy they'd taken out of Parrish's desk, as well as the pack of Nekot cookies they found on the shelf behind the sheriff's desk. Stiles began playing with the tag on an electrical cord, while Lydia repeatedly pressed the lever that first pumped the chair up, then dropped it down. They were soon engrossed in some game they had invented involving both of those things, and were giggling about it, when Stiles' father walked in. He looked torn between joy to see them, and upset worry, because they had obviously run off on their own. "Stiles! Lydia! I thought you were with Peter? Rafe said Scott dropped you off at Peter's. Is the battle at the bank over? All our owners OK?" Stiles scrambled up to hug him. "Dad! Hey. I don't know, nobody ever answers texts when there's a fight going on. No clue. And yeah, we WERE at Peter's, but guess what? We escaped!" Stiles beamed like it was some glorious, epic accomplishment. "He went upstairs, and we totally snuck out before he could even catch us! And guess how we got here?" He grinned, and didn't even give his dad a chance to guess, before telling him. "We DROVE! Or, well, Lydia did. I grabbed his keys when we ran out, and Lydia's a GREAT driver! Got us all the way across town, and barely even banged up the car! She's probably better than me, and Scott lets me practice driving the jeep almost every week!" Stiles' dad turned to look at her in astonishment. "Really! Well, that's great!" He nudged Stiles with his elbow, whispering, "Martin women, yeah...?" Stiles just grinned back, before his dad brought them all back to Earth. "You won't have long to wait. Rafe said he'd be down here in just a minute. Parrish asked me to put these files away." He paused, looking at their nervous faces, and frowned. "They don't know you're here, do they?" That made HIM nervous. It crossed his mind again just how dangerous their driving off in the middle of an inter-pack war had been. AND it meant that they might be in trouble, which meant that HE might be in trouble, too. He watched Stiles eye the door, twitching as though he might take off running any moment. Sudden fear flooded him, but being older, he didn't panic quite the way Stiles usually did. Instead, he thought quick and moved. Grabbing the handcuffs that hung under the desk, he had Stiles' wrist attached to a chair before the kid even realized what was happening. Then he stood back and grinned.

  
Stiles squawked and jerked. "Dad! What... what did you do?!" He tugged his arm, eyes bugging in disbelief. "I'm stuck! You CUFFED me!" His father positively swelled with pride. As a human, he could never be an actual officer of the law. Maintaining law and order was the werewolves' job, but he'd sure proved his worth tonight, hadn't he? Without any prompting or assistance, he had detained someone - a runaway minor, a car thief, and a flight risk. He had taken decisive action that would keep someone (his very own son!) safe. He had basically just made his first arrest, and was now keeping a lost pet in protective custody. See there? That would show them what humans were capable of! So he just sat down and smiled at Stiles. "Yeah, but I'll stay right here with you. Like I said, Rafe'll be down here any minute."

  
Agent McCall, Deputy Parrish, and Malia walked in at just that very moment. "Wait. Stiles? Lydia? What's..." He looked back and forth, from the kid cuffed to the furniture, to his pet/assistant that was looking entirely TOO inordinately pleased with himself. "Never mind. Someone can tell me what's going on after I grab something to eat. There's pizza down in the third room on the right. I'm probably gonna NEED it, to stomach whatever excuse you three come up with..." He wandered off in the food's direction, with Lydia and the elder Stilinski close behind - and Malia, too, after she took a second to pet on her favorite human. Stiles rattled the cuffs that kept him pinned. "Hey!" He slumped. "Could you bring me a slice?"

  
Mr. McCall got the story from Stiles' dad and Lydia (who insisted that it wasn't her idea, but she HAD to come too, or she'd be alone with Peter!), and couldn't decide whether to be angry or amused. Peter showed up soon after, ranting and raving about the entitled, brazen pets that dared steal and scratch up HIS car. McCall calmly got in his face, reminding him that THIS was exactly why pets needed to be watched, and that it wouldn't have happened if Peter had actually done what he agreed to do and WATCHED them, instead of leaving them alone to their own devices downstairs. (Stiles, meanwhile, was still cuffed to the chair, and was busy glaring at everyone, while his dad just grinned and kept nudging him with his foot. Stiles huffed. "You're way too happy about this, Dad...")

  
Within another hour and a half, the night's battles were over, and Scott and Jackson came tearing into the station, desperately worried about the cryptic texts they'd gotten from everyone that only half explained that their beloved pets had escaped Peter's supervision somehow, but were being watched in the Sheriff's office. Jackson and Peter came to blows right then and there, but were herded outside by Derek, whose only comment was, "TOLD you to watch them, Peter..." Scott, though, rushed straight to Stiles. "What happened? Did he bring you here? Drop you off? Lose you? Somebody tell me what's going on!" Stiles' dad and Agent McCall filled him in, and he just shook his head. "Stiles. Quit worrying everybody, man." Stiles (still cuffed and stuck) just pouted. "WE were worried. You left us with Peter, who didn't even wanna feed us. You quit leaving me with terrifying people!" Scott's face softened. "I'm sorry. I know you don't like him, I know it wasn't ideal. But SOMEBODY had to watch you, and everybody else was busy. But don't run off!" Stiles looked down and kicked lightly at a stray piece of paper. "Yeah..."

  
Scott turned to Agent McCall. "Dad, can you get him out of those, now? I just really wanna go home and take a shower, get all this blood off me." Mr. McCall nodded and released him, jerking his head at Stiles' dad. "You should thank this other human for taking the initiative to keep him here. Apparently Stiles was about to run off again, when his father put a stop to it." Scott grinned at Stilinski. "Good job! Bet you're pretty proud of yourself, arresting somebody, huh?" Stilinski smirked at his son, who was moodily rubbing at his wrist. "Oh, yeah..."

  
Scott's jeep had been pretty well totaled in the bank battle, so his dad drove them all in his vehicle. He stopped first to pick up his wife from where she had been helping with the after-battle clean-up near the school. He and Scott filled her in on all the happenings of the night, both about the fighting, AND the adventuresome young pets that decided to run off in the middle of all the chaos. She frowned backwards at Stiles. "Stiles! I thought we'd gotten you out of that! It's one thing to wander off when you're unconscious and sleepwalking, another to just take off whenever someone isn't looking! You could have gotten hurt tonight! You could have gotten LYDIA hurt tonight! Peter should have watched you better, but you KNOW better! Bad Stiles! Bad!" Stiles hunched in on himself with wide eyes, looking and feeling guilty under such a pointed scolding. "Sorry...?" Melissa sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "You boys are going to drive me crazy. When do I ever get to stop worrying about you two?"

  
They stopped at one of the few fast-food places that was still open, to get something to eat. In a hurry to get them all home, Rafael just ordered them all a couple cheeseburgers each, but then paused, and asked Stiles' father what he'd like as a reward for helping corral their other human that night. The answer came swiftly. "Steak sandwich, chocolate shake, and curly fries!" Stiles sat up. "Oooh! I want curly fries, too!" Rafe shook his head. "Nope. He's the one getting the reward, not you." Stiles grunted in protest, looking back and forth from Scott to Melissa. "But, but WHY?" Scott patted him on the shoulder, while Melissa said, "Because he behaved, and didn't run away from who was watching him." His dad just grinned, and stuffed his face. Stiles slumped and pouted. But his dad, when he thought no one was watching, still sneakily handed over to Stiles a couple of his fries. Of course their owners DID see, but just looked at each other and shrugged. If he wanted to share his reward, that was his business. Though Scott's dad did whisper to them at a level that only werewolves could hear, "Is he ever gonna learn, like that...?"


	7. Chapter 7

It wasn't until several hours later when they were all in bed that it hit Scott's parents, but they waited until breakfast to get onto him about it. For all that his father was a lawman, it was Melissa that did most of the fussing. "Scott! You've been teaching him to drive?! Absolutely not! Hand those keys over! You are GROUNDED, mister, and will be taking the bus until further notice, when we're sure you won't be letting your human behind the wheel! Of all the ridiculous, unthinking, irresponsible stunts! I know you love him, and I love him, too, but in what universe did you think that was OK? Just look at the trouble it caused!" Scott was stunned - and Stiles, for once, kept VERY quiet. "But... he wasn't even the one driving! Apparently that was Lydia. MY pet was just in the passenger seat! He only drives when I'm with him and tell him that he can!" Melissa was not to be deterred. "Doesn't matter." She pointed, frowning, at the hunched-over human meekly eating a bowl of cereal beside her son. "It was THIS one's idea. Which he only had because you'd taught him how! Now hand 'em over." Scott did so, muttering, "See if I let YOU do anything else fun..." Melissa raised an eyebrow. "Oh, no. Don't even blame it on him. He shouldn't have run off with Peter's car, but YOU shouldn't have given him that ability! You're the one responsible for HIM. Who's the werewolf, here?" Scott sighed and looked at his dad, who just took a sip of his coffee. "She's right. Not to mention it's against the law." He took another sip. "I've already called Mr. Whittemore; Lydia shouldn't be driving, either." Both of them looked at him slack-jawed. Stiles yawped, "No way! Don't get LYDIA in trouble!" Mr. McCall just took a bite of his toast. "Yes, way. She won't be in trouble, she just won't be allowed to do what she's been doing. You pets don't belong behind the wheels of cars, for pretty obvious reasons. If we had known sooner, we would have stopped it sooner." Stiles squinted, but Mr. McCall just kept eating, saying in-between bites, "If anyone's in trouble, it'll be Jackson. He knew better." Well. That made them feel the TINIEST bit better...

  
Standing out at the end of the driveway half an hour later as they waited for the bus, Scott stared dolefully at the side of Stiles' head. "My jeep. They didn't even say how long 'til I could have it back." Stiles hitched his backpack up on his shoulder. "Well, we get to have an adventure! We haven't rode the bus in forever. Maybe it'll go somewhere new - like taking a tour!" Scott's woebegone face didn't change. "My jeep..." Stiles sighed. "Yeah..."

  
On the bus, they sat surrounded by freshmen they barely knew. Well, they knew Liam and his pet Mason, with whom Stiles immediately began some friendly but inane human conversation about nothing. Whatever trivial matter they were discussing was apparently pretty "Intense!", as Mason kept saying. Scott just stared out the window, ignoring the curious stares from most of the other kids on the bus. Scott might not have known them, but they certainly knew HIM...

  
Because a whole lot of things had changed, during the still-ongoing war with Deucalion's pack. The Hale pack had been enlarged by three, when three of Scott and Stiles' classmates with problems at home had used the chaos as an excuse to switch loyalties, accepting Derek as their new alpha. (It would be Peter in just a few weeks again, and then Derek again, but whatever.) As much as Scott cared about his friend, he really had NO clue why anyone would want him as their alpha, and had earned himself that friend's annoyance by SAYING that to his new recruits. OK, Isaac he kind of understood, since his dad WAS terrible to him. But Boyd? Boyd's parents loved him. He didn't get BOYD's decision, at all. Erica he wasn't quite sure about, either. He had no idea what was going through ANYONE'S head. It was all confusing, and Scott wasn't sure he liked it, people just up and changing packs like that. Who did that?

  
So MANY things were confusing. The war had thrown almost everything they knew up in flux. Several friends that weren't werewolves had mutated or evolved, the stress Deucalion was putting on everyone bringing hidden and unexpected aspects of their natures to the surface. Kira, as a kitsune, had sprouted several new "tails" rather abruptly. Corey had suddenly discovered an ability to do much more than just blend in and camouflage with his surroundings - apparently, he could go completely invisible! And Theo... well, Theo was just becoming steadily more of a thorn in everyone's sides than ever. No one ever really knew what side he was on; he was worse than Peter. But where at least Peter could possibly claim insanity as a defense, all that could be said for Theo was that he was a manipulative asshole of the first degree.  
And then there was Scott, himself, who had surprised everyone by presenting as a 'True Alpha'. The war had pressed in, and pulled something unique and special out of him. His eyes had gone from yellow to red in the middle of the bank battle without his killing anyone, and the whole town knew it before midnight. THAT was actually the reason why they had been so late getting back. The fight had been over for a while, but time'd had to be taken out to figure out why his eyes were ruby-tinted now, and to sort out just what that even MEANT.

  
Because it complicated things. That Scott was a decent kid that tried his best to take the moral high-ground was already known. That he was now stronger and more self-assured no one begrudged him. But what would it do to the local hierarchies? What SHOULD it do? It was somewhat unsettling. Betas didn't typically just jump to alpha-hood that way. Not to mention that he was still a minor, that still lived with his parents! The situation was unprecedented, and his legal status was difficult to determine. As an alpha, he should have been independent, ranking head and shoulders above betas. But as a CHILD, he still needed guardians - even if he was five and six times as strong as those guardians! They weren't even sure about his PACK status. His great-grandmother was the McCall pack's alpha; was he a SECOND alpha to the whole pack, or did he now outrank his 90-year-old progenitor? Or was he even still a PART of his old pack? Maybe he was supposed to start a new one? No one seemed quite sure. Deaton, steeped in classical lore education, had promised to look into it, but in the meantime, no one was quite sure how to react to him. Scott may have been kind of oblivious sometimes, but he wasn't stupid. He was pretty sure that his parents' reaction to learning that he'd been teaching Stiles to drive was at least as much about reasserting their authority over their son that now technically outranked them, as it was about the illegality of what he'd been doing with his pet. He knew it was really just his parents' way of saying, See? We're still in charge, here! And Scott, much as he hated it, much as his dominant INSTINCTS hated it, just sighed and forced himself to roll with it. He was pretty sure that he DIDN'T actually have to obey them anymore. He could easily overpower both of them, blindfolded with one hand tied behind his back. He could assume control of everything in the household, no problem - but that wasn't really something a 'true alpha' would do, was it?

  
No. It wasn't. He was a 'true alpha' precisely because he was determined to do the right thing, and making his parents that loved and cared for him cower in the face of his new power was NOT the right thing to do. Handing over the keys to his vehicle when his parents demanded them after he did something illegal WAS the right thing to do. Even if it did suck.

  
He turned and looked at Stiles, who was busy talking technical gaming stuff with Mason, and elbowed him gently. "This is your fault, you know. Told you to stay with Peter." Stiles just frowned and huffed. "Nuh, uh. YOU stay with the creepy guy that goes on rages! I was just listening to my own sense of self-preservation. I refuse to be sorry. Nope. Not sorry at all. YOU'RE the one that left me with scary guy. Nope. Not sorry..."

  
Scott just rolled his eyes and shook his head. At least his relationship with his pet and best friend wouldn't change. As a human, the color of someone's eyes didn't mean anything to Stiles. Pack hierarchies went well over humans' heads. Stiles knew the definitions to all the different ranking terms, and he knew what eye colors were supposed to indicate, but all Stiles REALLY got out of all of it was that werewolves were weird and complicated, but he was Scott's, and Scott would deal with it. He was human, and humans were simple. They wanted food, fun, mating opportunities, and an owner to look to so they could feel safe. With humans, there WEREN'T really any hierarchies. Parents were protective of their offspring, and told them some of what they should do when they were very small, but that was about it. Within a group of humans, there was never really one "in charge". Laid-back, lazy, lackadaisical humans just didn't care. If leadership was required, they just looked to their owner, or else just did as they pleased until stopped!

  
After supper, showers, and settling down for bed the night before, Scott had shown Stiles his new eyes. Stiles had been mildly curious, and had asked a lot of questions, but thankfully hadn't responded in any of the ways different werecreatures had. He hadn't recoiled in shock, growled in angry jealousy, or all but rolled over in abject submission. No, he'd just peered at them, asked what happened, nodded in partial understanding, and then changed the subject, infinitely more interested in Lydia's possible "maybe" when he'd suggested being breeding partners than he was in werewolf status changes! And really, that suited Scott just fine.

  
Everyone else, though? Teachers at school, fellow students? It would take time to sort it all out. There would be weeks of everyone tiptoeing around him, weeks of trying to figure out who was and wasn't part of Scott's pack, weeks of trying to figure out whether he even HAD a pack, or if his sudden change into an alpha had made an omega of him. In the end, he DID have a pack, and he was definitely the unambiguous leader of it. His closest friends, their parents, and his own parents all fell more or less naturally under his superintendence - at least in matters pertaining to the group at large, or werewolf organizational affairs. Scott's parents found themselves stepping back more and more, letting Scott lead and do as he thought best. Only very rarely did they ever insert themselves back in as parents, only when it was obvious that the issue at hand was less about being a werewolf, and more about just being a teenager in need of an elder's advice. But they must have been doing something right all the years before then, because even THOSE times were so infrequent as to barely warrant mention. Scott was really handling himself and his new role quite superbly. He attended meetings with other alphas, and was a credit to all that knew him, as he played skilled diplomat amongst adults two and three times his age. The only thing that wasn't just falling into place for him was the one thing that bothered him the most: his relationship with Allison...


	8. Chapter 8

The Allison Problem. A problem so severe it deserved capital letters, just to emphasize how bad Scott considered it. So bad that even as a "True Alpha", Scott couldn't think what to do about it...

Actually, the problem was an inter-generational feud between the Hale and Argent packs, that had been going on for far longer than the two young lovers had been alive. No one could seem to remember just exactly HOW it had started, but Scott was able to piece together something to the effect that it was all Allison's grandfather's fault. As a young man he had started something, which lead to something, which led to violence, which led to Deucalion losing his eyesight (which of course led to his becoming the biggest thorn the town had ever had in its side), which years later would lead to Talia Hale as a new young alpha trying to step in and peacemake, which kickstarted a whole other series of unfortunate events that would somehow eventually lead to her and several other Hale pack members' deaths, which led to Peter losing his mind in grief and rage and going on a rampage against the Argents, which led to what by the time Scott and Allison were a thing had been over thirty years of back-and-forth chaos. 

Christopher and Victoria, in a bid to try and keep their daughter out of it, had all but separated from the rest of their pack and moved to Los Angeles for nearly fifteen years. When things eventually seemed like they had finally calmed down, (with Peter over his vengance campaign, and Kate off doing something far away in Mexico) they'd decided to come back to Beacon Hills. They had old friends and family they wanted Allison to get to know better, not to mention that Chris' job would actually pay him MORE in his hometown than it would even in LA. So they moved back to Beacon Hills, and Allison's very first class on her very first day of school saw her her sit directly in front of Scott. He loaned her a pen, and the rest, as they say, is history...

Everything was going swimmingly for them, with young love blossoming between twitterpated teenagers, and all of that. It was all beautifully, wondrously cliché - right up until Allison's grandfather and alpha, Gerard, realized that Scott was friends with Derek Hale. He had met Scott and liked him well enough before, but once THAT bit of information leaked out? Well, that was it. THE END. He decreed with finality that Allison would NOT continue what he called her "traitorous" relationship. As Argent alpha, he DID actually have the authority to do that. He DID have the authority to say who his pack could and could not associate with. And Scott, as a new alpha himself who had just recently been a beta beneath his own alpha and parents and grandparents, completely and totally understood that. But he didn't LIKE it. It wasn't fair!

Scott didn't get it. He may have been Derek's friend, but he wasn't part of the Hale pack, so he really had no dog in that fight (to use an apt phrase). Adults around him gently suggested that maybe he didn't WANT a dog in that fight, that maybe he was better off leaving both the Hales AND the Argents well enough alone. Which wasn't terrible advice, from a purely practical standpoint. Had it just been about being safe and sensible, Scott surely WOULD have just moved on and found new friends, friends that weren't part of packs that made the Hatfields and McCoys seem tame and mild. The problem was, Scott knew and liked these people, cared about them! Was in LOVE with them, in Allison's case. Despite their continued attachment to their familial packs, Scott, as a new alpha, had come to think of them as part of HIS, and he couldn't let them go. His pride as an alpha wouldn't let him lose pack members, but neither would his own personal sense of loyalty. Scott just didn't give up on people!

But what was he supposed to do when another alpha forbid him from contacting his own beta, and possible future mate? His parents advised him to wait and leave it alone for a while. That yes, he was an alpha with rights over his own pack, but he was reminded that his subconsciously-chosen pack didn't have any legal standing, not officially recognized in any fashion. Well, other than Liam, that was. Liam's anger issues had his parents desperate enough to readily agree that he would probably do BETTER under a younger alpha's eye, and sign him over. And so Scott McCall was only legally alpha over a pack of exactly two: himself, and Liam. Human pets weren't included in official counts, or else he might have been able to say four, what with Stiles and Mason, who being humans dependent on their owners (and thus their owners' alpha) were also very much his. Though he continued living in his parents' home, Scott would soon be emancipated by his old pack so that he could more formally take the reins over his own. Scott felt a constant nagging in his heart and stomach that told him his pack was quite a bit bigger than that, but he had as yet no way of proving or verifying it...

It was driving Scott crazy. Allison was HIS, but he couldn't hardly get near her. He saw Allison at school, of course, and tried to communicate as much as he could without getting her in trouble, but Gerard had already given his son and daughter-in-law an ultimatum to keep the two apart, and so Victoria had actually involved the teachers, asking them to report on observed contact between the two. Scott was horrifically offended, and his mother right with him, but what could they do? Gerard, as Argent alpha, had laid down the law, and Scott wasn't willing to start a pack war over it....

And so at first they just got sneaky. They used Stiles as a carrier pigeon of sorts, passing messages between the two. Whenever Stiles would get tired of running back and forth, or start complaining in a way that drew attention, Scott would then commandeer Mason from Liam, and send HIM with notes for Allison. (Scott couldn't decide which of them made the better courier. Stiles had being sneaky down pat, but he would often get distracted and go draw on chalkboards instead of completing his errand. Mason was more reliable, but his eyes would bug out in nervousness the whole time, making him LOOK suspicious...)

They made plans a couple nights a week to go with groups of friends to places where they could "accidentally" bump into each other and mingle for just a short bit - bowling alleys, malls, burger joints, that sort of thing. And of course there were the lacrosse games, since Allison still watched Lydia for Jackson during them. Despite one or both of his parents' presence at most games, he still made the "purely business" decision (yeah, right) to ask Jackson if his pet-sitter could watch HIS pet during games, too. Naturally, Stiles didn't mind being Scott's excuse, not if it meant he got to sit near Lydia! And of COURSE Jackson and Allison agreed, and no one could really say much about the 10-second-long interactions they had as he handed Stiles off to her and then picked him back up from her afterwards, even if everyone could see right through it. His parents warned him to be careful, that he was walking a fine line there, but he just nodded and took it with a grain of salt. A half-minute of "Here's my pet, thanks for watching him" and "Did he behave for you?" was better than nothing!

It didn't take terribly long for Chris and Victoria to get nervous about it, and finally tell Allison that she couldn't watch Stiles for Scott anymore. They just didn't want Gerard to hear about it and get upset with THEM for allowing it. Scott harrumphed and fretted and was just generally so heartsick about it, that Stiles began coming up with his very own plans to get the two together more often!

Stiles was already a sometimes sleepwalker, and had been known to misplace himself during the day, too. So what if he just "happened" to wander off a little more often, and tried to make sure that Allison was the one to "find" him, so that Scott would have to talk to her when he tracked him down? Stiles thought it was a great idea! He knew he couldn't do it TOO often, or it would get thwarted just like her watching him during games was, but maybe if he spaced it out just right...?

And so it was that Stiles began turning up "lost" at school from time to time, only to be found very near to wherever Allison was. He once even took off sprinting zig-zaggedly through a store, just so he could be "caught" in the same aisle where Allison and Mrs. Argent were picking out soap and shampoo. Melissa marching him out to the car by his ear was totally worth it, if it gave his bestest pal a moment to talk to his girl, under guise of apologizing for his wayward pet...

It was WORKING! Stiles succeeded in providing his friend an occasion to fetch him from Allison at least once a week, and no one seemed the wiser for it. It was awesome!  
That is, until the day he almost electrocuted himself. While shooting off from Scott's side one day, he fell and tripped into a mass of wires that the maintenance guy was repairing in one of the school hallways. Only the fact that Kira was nearby to redirect the current prevented him from being fried. As it was, Stiles managed to bang his left knee up, and scrape his right palm. Scott was there in less than two seconds to help him up and drain most of his pain. "STILES! Stiles, what were you THINKING? Don't run off like that!" Scott was panicking. "Stiles, man, you could have DIED! Look at you, your finger's bleeding! And if Kira hadn't been standing here..." He turned to Kira, with one hand still on Stiles. "Kira, wow. Thank you. I don't even know HOW to thank you. That was huge, I really owe you..." Kira smiled and shrugged awkwardly. "Oh, just, doing my thing as a thunder kitsune. Glad I could help?" Scott grinned. "Well, thank you. And STILES thanks you." He turned back to his pet, nodding, shaking him, and whispering, "She saved your life, man. Thank her...!" Still a little stunned at how fast everything had just happened, not to mention confused by the blood leaking from his pinky, (How did THAT happen? He didn't even FEEL it!) Stiles distractedly stammered something that sounded a little bit like a garbled "Uh, yeah... thanks..." as he was pulled back down the hall by Scott, who never ONCE let go of his collar until they were seated again.

He didn't really hear it until they were in the jeep and going home after that last class. "Stiles. I know what you're doing. And I appreciate it, I really do. But not if it's gonna get you hurt!" Stiles, still feeling a little dazed, shook himself out of it long enough to ask, "What? What are we talking about?" Scott leaned against the driver's door and sighed. "You running off! You're always doing it, and you've really gotta stop. I mean, I KNOW you wanna help me and Allison out, but Stiles, you're gonna get hurt!" Stiles frowned. Scott wasn't supposed to know what he was doing! "I'm already hurt. How did I cut my finger? I didn't even feel it 'til you said anything..." Scott sighed. "Could have been your face, the way you went sailing into everything." Stiles grimaced, and Scott kept talking. "You just CAN'T. Something bad's gonna wind up happening to you, flapping off in every direction. So Stiles? I'm just gonna have to start keeping you... really extra close. OK?" 

Umm... OK. Stiles wasn't worried about being kept close. Wasn't he ALWAYS kept close? Pets in general were always kept close. Duh. That's just how life worked. Nothing new there. At least not until they were ready and starting to walk out the door for school the next morning, and Scott - with no warning whatsoever - grabbed his arm and slapped a small metal bracelet on his wrist. It locked on with an almost ominous-sounding squeaky click...

Stiles stared at it in confusion. "What is this?" He wiggled a finger under it, but it wouldn't come loose. "Jewelry? Not a girl, dude. But still, how come I didn't get to help pick it out? Am I supposed to say thank you? I mean, I guess it looks OK. But how's it come off?" Scott sighed deeply. "It, ah, doesn't. Not without tools." Stiles eyes got huge. "WHAT? Why? Dude..." He started pulling at it, suddenly wanting it OFF, yesterday! 

Scott sighed again. "It's so I don't lose you anymore. It's programmed to connect with my phone. You go more than about 100 feet away, and both it and my phone will vibrate until I find you and reset it." Stiles gaped. "Like, a tracking device?" Scott looked almost ashamed. "Yeah. GPS, and everything." Stiles opened and closed his mouth like a fish. "But... I'm not... That's not cool! And totally unnecessary!" Scott's brow furrowed, and he didn't look sorry or ashamed, anymore. "You could have been ELECTROCUTED yesterday. I can't let anything happen to you. We keep telling you not to run off!" Stiles held his arm out in the most pitiful fashion, possible. "But... I won't! I'll stop!" Scott threw his backpack over his shoulder and gently pushed Stiles out the door. "Yeah, I know. That's what you always say - right before you disappear, again. But maybe if you're wearing this thing, the buzzing will remind you to stop and come back before you get too far. Before something happens." Stiles put his seatbelt on, glaring at his friend/owner and grumbling, "Ugh. You sound like your parents, or something. You need to be so glad you have me, 'cause how else would you even have friends..."

And so Stiles spent the entire rest of the day moping and pouting. It wasn't that he didn't want to stay so close by to Scott; his owner was his very bestest friend ever. And the bracelet didn't hurt, or weigh much, or anything. It wasn't in his way. He just didn't like the IDEA of it. It was as if nobody trusted him! "Of course we don't trust you, Stiles. You're KNOWN for running off." He might have aimed a rude gesture at the person (Jackson) that volunteered THAT tidbit...

It was later that evening that Stiles thought to ask, "Wait. Where'd this thing even come from? You just pulled it out of nowhere this morning..." Scott shrugged and half-smiled. "Had it for a couple weeks, actually. Dad found it on sale somewhere and gave it to me. I just didn't think I'd really need to use it, not until you almost got zapped yesterday." Stiles crossed his arms in a huff. As if he needed any more reasons to find Mr. McCall annoying!

As days went by, Stiles seemed to almost adapt to it, or at the very least, he stopped picking at it, and moaning and groaning incessantly. His mood stayed a hint sour for a while yet, though. His dad tried and failed to cheer him up by remarking that, "Hey, at least they didn't put a collar on you, again. A bracelet's kind of cool, right? All the hip kids want one of those. Except, you know, without the tracker in it... Never mind." But still more time went by, until he'd been wearing it almost two months, and was finally able to relax and go with it most of the time, sometimes even almost forgetting he had it on! In fact, everything was almost perfect again, nearly as good as things ever had been. Stiles was actually pretty happy, EXCEPT for the way his owner was still moping endlessly after the girl he adored but couldn't have. Scott's constant distress was so acute it was giving him panic attacks, which really wasn't any way for an alpha to behave, but he was UPSET. He was utterly convinced that he didn't just want her, but that he NEEDED her, and now he had electronically hobbled his pet human so that he didn't even have THOSE occasional moments with her, anymore. It ate at him, and it ate Stiles, simply by affiliation...


	9. Chapter 9

BUT THEN IT HAPPENED. A fluke occurred, and Stiles (naturally) took full advantage of it!

Scott had a lacrosse game one evening, and he had left both his pet and his cell phone with his parents up in the stands. It was a ridiculously close game, the two teams fighting like fury for each and every single point. Scott finally finished it off by scoring the final winning shot, and of course the crowd went wild, what with it being the last game before the local championships, and everything. And with the game finally over, Stiles asked the question he'd been dying to ask for almost fifteen minutes: "So can I go to the bathroom, now?" 

Mrs. McCall rolled her eyes and smiled at Rafael, saying, "I'll take him." She made her way down the bleachers with Stiles, and was halfway to the restrooms, when a great lot MORE commotion broke loose, when Jackson broke his leg in all the celebratory chaos. Being a nurse and a medical professional, Melissa fell obliged to go and offer her help. "But... but I still gotta go! Just let me take a leak right quick, and you can help AFTER?" Melissa sighed and pointed back up the stands. "Rafael has Scott's phone, and the bathrooms are within the programmed distance. So you go ahead on your own, but then you get right back up there with him as soon as you're done. Understand?" Stiles bounced on his toes. "Yes, ma'am! Got it!" And he took off like a flash, while Melissa just shook her head and knelt down to reset Jackson's leg, so that it could start healing. It wouldn't take but just a minute, after she righted it.

Stiles dashed off and squeezed his way into the crowded restroom, relieved himself and washed his hands, and started meandering back to the stands. He took his time, though. No real hurry. It wasn't like he was EAGER to plop back down beside Scott's dad. He hardly ever got to do any wandering around by himself, so he was determined to do as much loitering and delaying as he could. He dragged his feet in odd zigzag patterns, deliberately making the 45-second walk take as long as he thought he could possibly get away with. He looked over at a group of players on the side of the field, and wondered where Scott was. He wouldn't have to go back if he was with Scott...

So first taking a cautious look at both of Scott's parents, Stiles began making a wide circle along the perimeter of the area he could be in WITHOUT the tracker being set off. He could see Allison and Lydia a bit further out, and he THOUGHT about joining them, but... nah. He was probably going to get fussed at already, just for not actually going straight back to Mr. McCall. No sense turning himself in early!

So he continued making his circle, keeping an eye out for Scott, who had to be somewhere around here. He thought he heard Melissa yell his name, which made him jump. He lost focus for a moment, turned around in a few circles, and then lurched out of the way of a truly enormous player for the opposing team nicknamed "The Abomination". When he blinked and came back to himself, Stiles realized (with some happy disbelief) that he was now well outside the 100-foot range - BUT THE TRACKER WAS NOT GOING OFF! 

Stiles glanced back at the bleachers, where he could still see Mr. McCall's tall self sitting. He was DEFINITELY more than 100 feet away, though. Why wasn't it going off, beeping and vibrating? He knew what it should be doing, because he'd already activated it more than a few times in the last couple months. Curious, he poked at it, as he walked still FURTHER away, but it did nothing. Which must mean that that it wasn't working for some reason, either because it was broken, or because it had accidentally been turned off, or something...

With a manic grin on his face, Stiles made the instant decision to milk the situation for all it was worth. After all, it wasn't HIS fault that it wasn't working properly! It hadn't buzzed to let him know when he'd gone too far, and no one had gone with him to make sure he found his way back, so they couldn't hold HIM responsible for not being where he was supposed to, could they? No, of course not. They were the ones that put the stupid, useless thing on him. Stiles had nothing at all to do with it...

And so he took off, pounding pavement like nobody's business. He was FREE! For a little bit, at least. Oh, sure, they would catch him eventually, and Stiles would be glad enough to go home after a while, but for now? For now he was just going to run wild, just because he could! 

Cackling like a madman, Stiles dashed through the practice field off to the side, around the backside of the building, across the parking lot, and back around the far side of the bleachers, again. He made several circuits around the school campus, dodging all the people getting into their vehicles and driving home, slipping between the parked buses and beneath the scoreboards. FREEDOM! WHOO! He was one with the wind, he was an elemental force of slippery-elusive nature, he was the fastest human around! He would be HARD to catch, and far from being mad, Scott would be IMPRESSED that his human had skills and speed almost like a werewolf. Maybe he should run right through the middle of the main field and wave at everybody? See how long it took them to catch him? Scott wouldn't be the only one impressed. Lydia would HAVE to be in awe of his daring. Maybe speed and bravery were what she was looking for in a breeding partner...

So lost was Stiles in these thoughts, that he didn't see the arm reaching out for him until he was had. "OOOF!" He was jerked to a stop when he was yanked full-force into someone's chest. "Ow. What the..." He looked up into Gerard Argent's too-pleasant face. "Uh, oops, uh, excuse me, so sorry..." He tried to pull away, but was held tight. "Hey. I said sorry, now let me go!" Gerard's smile only got wider. "Oh, I don't think so. You'll be coming with me, now, won't you?" Stiles squirmed to no avail. "Um, no, I won't. I gotta get back on the bleachers, they're gonna be looking for me." Gerard said nothing, pulling him toward a black SUV. "Hey, I said I gotta go, so LET me! Unhand me, you geriatric creep! I'm not your human, so lemme go!" Gerard half-chuckled. "Well, they're not taking very good care of their pet, now are they? I think your owner could use some help." And before Stiles could even get out a yell, he found himself bundled into a vehicle.

Almost the next thing he knew? He was being pushed down the stairs to a basement. He was determined NOT to act like he was afraid. "What? Why'd you bring me here? What do you want?" Gerard smiled. "Oh, I'm just keeping you comfortable until your owner arrives." Stiles let annoyance and cocky defiance push his fear out of the way. "Scott doesn't even know you HAVE me, does he? But he's gonna find me. Best sniffer in the whole county, probably the whole STATE, that's Scott. He could totally sniff me out even if you buried me under twelve feet of sewage. Which you kinda DID, rubbing all your own smell off on me, you... You pet-napper." Gerard's face grew darker as he stepped forward. "The McCall's never taught you any manners or respect, did they? A shame..." Stiles tried to reign in the trembles that threatened to overtake him. "Yeah, well, I'm not scared of you. You're like, what, ninety years old? Scott's gonna come find me, and when he does he's gonna-" 

Stiles didn't get to say anything else, before he was backhanded and sent sprawling, an action that was followed up by a couple punches to the face...

When Stiles came to, he didn't know how much time had gone by. He hadn't gone completely unconscious, but the nauseating pain had left him curled up on the floor, dizzy and terrified to move. His thoughts were flying every which way. What had happened? Why? And WHERE WAS SCOTT?

Stiles was shocked, he didn't understand. He'd NEVER been treated like that. He'd NEVER been hit, NEVER been abused in any way. It didn't make sense! He was a pet, and pets were protected, coddled, and cared for. For all that he was a handful, everyone around him had always taken into consideration the fact that he was a weak and fragile human, and his mouthiness and lack of good judgment had always been regarded as just another part of that. Sure, he got fussed at frequently, but never once in all of Stiles' life had he ever DREAMED that someone might actually turn violent on him. He'd always assumed that he'd be safe, because no one ever hurt pet humans! But now someone had, and it shook Stiles to his core. 

A few silent stray tears fell. It was all his fault. He was the one that stupidly ran off instead of going back to the bleachers like he was supposed to, so now here he was, now THIS had happened. Served him right, didn't it? He hadn't appreciated his kind, generous, and GENTLE owners enough to stay where they told him to, so now he was stuck here, with someone that didn't care about him, with someone that actually STRUCK him! It was awful. It hurt! He had seen Scott get hit in the occasional play-fight with other werewolves, but the little cuts and bruises had always disappeared off Scott's face within just a moment or so. Stiles had no idea how long he had been laying there, but he was sure that it had been much longer than a couple minutes...

Time continued to tick by, and Stiles' unhappiness deepened. His face hurt, his FEELINGS were hurt, he was tired, he was confused. He had little-to-no idea what was going on. He wanted his dad. 

He wanted his dad. True, his dad was a human just like he was, so it wasn't like he could save Stiles from any of this. But he still WANTED him. His father had always been there whenever he was sick or hurt, and he craved that reassurance now. His dad wouldn't have LET anybody hit him. He'd have diffused the situation before it ever got there, or just jumped in front of Stiles if that hadn't worked and if he'd seen it coming. Not that Stiles wanted his dad to get hit, but... He didn't know. He was just miserable and he wanted his dad, so sue him. He wanted Scott to come find him, already...!

Time continued to crawl. Stiles wasn't wearing a watch, but he was pretty sure it had been at LEAST a couple hours. He curled in on himself tighter. Where was everyone? Were they even looking for him? Would they even bother to come after a runaway pet like him? After all, why should they? He'd had his chance to be safe with them, and he'd left. Maybe they figured he WANTED to be with someone else...

There were no windows or clocks down in that basement, so Stiles had no way of knowing that it had already turned into the next morning, but he guessed that more time had probably passed than he realized. It turned into the afternoon, still without him knowing it. Stiles had gotten up to test the door more than a couple times, but it remained locked. He had long since gotten hungry, and he let himself start almost panicking. What if no one ever came? What if they just completely FORGOT about him? Out of sight, out of mind, right? They'd forget that he ever even existed, that there ever WAS a human called Stiles! They'd never find him, he'd die down here in this dark basement, and nobody would ever even know, because it didn't even matter. Who cared about finding a loose-cannon of a pet, that couldn't even stay put? His fault, it was all his fault...

Round and round those thoughts went for hours and hours, in circles that were driving him crazy. Maybe that's what would happen to him. He'd just go crazy, totally insane, and by the time Scott found him (IF he ever found him) he'd be a slobbering, twitching mess that wouldn't know up from down. Stiles clutched his knees to his chest and tried valiantly to keep it together. Surely he wouldn't have to wait MUCH longer! Still, his limbs shook hard, so he shook his head. He was TIRED. He wished something mighty that he could just fall asleep, but he couldn't. He really wasn't sure that he SHOULD. He wanted to drift off and forget about it all for a while, but... But what if he never woke up? It was terrible, EVERYTHING was terrible, and his face still hurt, and where was Scott...?!

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Stiles would never know just how much time went by. He would never get around to asking. All he knew was that an eternity and three lifetimes went by before he nearly had a heart attack when the door at the top of the steps finally opened, and Scott and his dad came barrelling down. "STILES! There you are, thank God!"

Stiles didn't have time to sit up before he found himself being PULLED up and squeezed to his dad's chest. "Stiles. Son. We've been so worried. Oh, God, Stiles, I... Stiles." His dad wasn't going to even let him BREATHE, he was clutching at him so hard. Stiles, of course, hugged back just as hard.

He swallowed. "Dad. Scott. How did you... I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm NEVER running off again, this time I PROMISE-" Scott interrupted him. "Hey. We know, it's OK. You running around the field in circles didn't make Allison's granddad steal you. It's my fault, I saw the whole thing, but I thought it wouldn't hurt to let you wear yourself out for a few minutes before I grabbed you, but then HE had you, and I just couldn't get there fast enough." He patted Stiles (who was still stuck to his dad's front) on the shoulder. "It's not your fault. Apparently, he was going to get you at some point, anyway. You running around just meant it happened THEN, as opposed to some other time. But it's OK, we've got you."

They stood there a minute, while Stiles' father just hung on to him. The poor man was still upset, muttering into Stiles' shoulder, "Told Rafael not to even bother arresting him, to just go ahead and eat his face..." Scott smiled. "Me and Allison's dad took care of it. Don't even worry." Stiles sniffed. "So, uh, can I have something to eat? He didn't even feed me down here, and I'm kinda hungry." Scott laughed. "Yeah, totally. Come on, gonna need Mom to fix up your face, anyway..."

He drove them home, and while Melissa tended to the dried-bloody mess that was Stiles' cheekbone and made him a couple sandwiches, Scott explained everything that had happened since Stiles had been taken. Gerard had thought he'd had an incontestable bargaining chip in Stiles, who he knew was valuable to Scott. Instead, it had turned into an intra-pack skirmish that had resulted in Chris becoming the new alpha of the Argent pack, which now had fully restored relations with both the Hale and the new McCall packs.

"... so yeah, Gerard didn't accomplish anything he set out to, and Allison's dad is their new alpha. He said he'd thought about challenging his dad more than a few times, but this was just the last straw, 'cause the Argents had always had some kind of "code" - code of honor, I guess. Should've seen the way his whole pack just turned on him, once he actually said what he'd done to you. 'Cause that's just so wrong, you don't do somebody's pet HUMAN like that." Stiles' dad added, "That's why when they started fighting, I took his jacket he'd set aside, and threw it in a mud-puddle. Bastard." The two Stilinskis grinned and high-fived each other, as Scott continued, "So I didn't even have to fight him, 'cause Allison's dad did it for me. I think he's gonna be a great new alpha for them. He's already changing stuff, a LOT of stuff." Stiles smirked around a mouthful of sandwich. "Is he changing the IMPORTANT stuff?" Scott's dreamily-happy look was all the answer needed. "Yeah. Said he was fine with it. Or, well, I mean, he said he couldn't really tell me NO, after all this. Just as long as we don't elope, or skip school, or anything." He frowned. "MRS. Argent didn't look too happy about it, but Mr. Argent's the alpha, so I guess I'll just have to be extra-nice and win her over?" Stiles shrugged and kept eating. "I dunno. She's all scary-ferocious, though. You sure SHE'S not the alpha? Argent women are scarier than Argent men. I bet it's the women that're really in charge." Scott looked offended. "Scariness has nothing to do with who the alpha is." Stiles gestured wildly. "Well, OBVIOUSLY! I mean, you're an alpha, and you're nothing like scary." Scott pouted at that....


	10. Chapter 10

So they joked around and were light-hearted about everything. After all, it was OVER, it was done with, the problems were all solved. Scott had found and retrieved his pet, Stiles was absolutely adamant that he would never again wander off, and Scott's mini-pack of two was well-respected and on good terms with everyone. He and Allison were even dating freely and openly again! The only thing that still bothered Scott was how long it was taking Stiles' face to heal up. He KNEW that humans healed slower than werewolves and other supernatural beings; he could remember more than a few bumps and scrapes Stiles had accidentally inflicted on himself over the years that had taken a few days to go away. The huge bruise on his cheek and his split lip, however, were still sort of there more than a week after, and THAT bugged him.

Stiles, though? Stiles was totally milking the situation for all it was worth. He only SLIGHTLY exaggerated and stretched the truth of what had happened when telling the story, and became a sort of hero amongst the few other humans at school. After all, he'd been kidnapped and rough-housed by an alpha that made other werewolves nervous, and lived to tell about it! He told them all about suffering through endless ages of solitary confinement in a freezing cold, wet cave of a basement (only a SLIGHT exaggeration!) after being ATTACKED and repeatedly hit in the face, and all about how instrumental he'd been in the new Argent alpha's rise to power. Greenburg and Jared were wide-eyed with awe. Mason seemed slightly dubious about many of the details, but admitted it was still cool. Lydia? She rolled her eyes at Stiles' theatrics since she knew the REAL story, but expressed concern about his injuries, even reaching out to gingerly touch his cheek. And Lydia touching him was more than enough to make it all worthwhile for Stiles! 

Well, Stiles had THOUGHT he was OK with it, until a few nights afterwards, when he had the worst nightmare he'd had in years. His screaming and flopping around had woken even his sound-sleeping dad, who had immediately jumped up to see about him. By the time the werewolves of the house had burst through the door, Stiles' father had already gently restrained him and was trying to wake him up. "Hey! Hey! Stiles, it's OK, I've got you, it's OK, It's just a dream, it's OK..."

The McCalls just stood and stared as Stiles slowly struggled to awaken, still thrashing and hyperventilating in his dad's arms, yelling, "No! No, it's, no, don't-" His father only wrapped tighter around him, mumbling softly, "Hey. Hey. It's OK, it's OK. Just a nightmare. I've got you, it's OK. I have you, I have you. I got you Stiles, I got you. It's OK, I've got you..." Stiles froze, and dissolved into tears. "Aw, Stiles. Dang it. It's OK, son, it's OK..." Stiles sank back into his dad's embrace, shaking and hiccupping. "No. No, it's NOT okay. He... Dad, he HIT me. A creep of an antique werewolf hit me, and I couldn't do anything about it, and I waited for Scott and it took forever, and then you came, but what if you DIDN'T? What if-" Scott stepped forward then, and knelt down to be at eye level with the two humans. "Stiles. I promise, it IS okay now. Gerard's never gonna be able to do anything like that again, not him or anybody else. I'll never let it happen ever again. You're safe, buddy. I promise." Stiles just closed his eyes and half-turned to hide his face in his dad's shoulder. Scott sighed, while Stiles' dad just rubbed the back of his head. "I know, I'm sorry. But it's never happening again, OK?" Stiles took a deep breath, but still didn't look up from where his forehead was smashed into his dad's clavicle. "Thought maybe you'd forgotten about me..." Mr. McCall let loose a good-natured snort from over by the door. "Don't think we COULD forget, not with everything you keep stirred up. This is not the first night of sleep we've lost over you, you know." Stiles snickered in spite of himself. Melissa smiled and added, "Besides, Scott would be lost without you. I don't think he'd know what to do with himself, without his big-mouthed pet around to get him in trouble." 

Which was probably true. Actually, they KNEW it was true. A repetitive offense one summer back when they were thirteen-ish had once gotten Scott grounded first from going anywhere, then from dessert, then from the TV, then from the computer, and finally - when Melissa had absolutely had it and nothing else was working - from Stiles! A whole day and night of not being allowed to talk to or interact with his pet in any way had floored Scott, and completely cured him of the behavior Melissa had wanted to nip. Even so, it wasn't something she'd ever resorted to again...

Scott patted him on the shoulder. "Besides. Batman's no good without Robin backing him up, is he?" Stiles' eyes shot open, glaring at his owner. "And how come I'm Robin? What, you think you're Batman? You're not Batman. I mean, you're probably closer to Batman than me, what with your 'True Alpha' schtick, but come on, I can be Batman SOME of the time, right?" Scott rolled his eyes. "Nobody's Batman OR Robin. I'm just saying, I wouldn't forget about you. I'm your owner AND your alpha. It's my job to protect you, and that's what I'm gonna do." He poked Stiles in the arm. "So next time I spot you running around like that, I'm just gonna grab you right away. No more freedom for YOU, pal." Stiles squinted. "You know, I was GONNA say that you didn't need to worry about anymore, but if you're gonna be like that about it..." Scott grinned. "If you really think you can run faster than me, you try it. We'll just have to see, huh?" Stiles opened his mouth to say something else, until Melissa broke in. "OK. Pets that can argue must be feeling better, and I know two boys that belong in school in the morning. So up, up. Go to bed. See you in the morning, OK?" Scott hugged his pet and went back to his own room, but the two humans stayed where they were, Stiles falling back asleep again on his dad...

Stiles didn't have anymore nightmares, and a couple weeks of him all BUT sticking to his owner like glue convinced Scott that maybe the hated bracelet wasn't needed, anymore. After all, Stiles could wreck plenty of havoc even while being supervised...

Kira helped save Stiles from being shocked again, this time at a school party where Stiles decided to stick a fork into an amp next to the DJ. As Scott dragged him back out to the Jeep to take him home, he protested, "I don't wanna go home! No fair! Was Mason's idea, anyway!" Which prompted Scott to call Liam, and warn him to watch his pet before he did something all too human.

"She saved you AGAIN, Stiles. This is getting ridiculous!" Scott was one of the most patient people in the world, but even he was getting exasperated. "You and electricity! What if Kira hadn't been standing there? She won't ALWAYS be around to rescue you. You've got to at least TRY to be safe, or next time I might have to take you to the clinic, instead of home!" He sighed. "And it's not really nice to Allison. I had to just leave her there." Stiles sunk down in the seat, feeling guilty but trying not to. "I don't know... Maybe you should just be with Kira instead, then. Then you wouldn't have to worry about it!" There were no words to describe the look on Scott's face. "WHAT?" Stiles shrugged. "Yeah. You know, then we could all stay together when stuff like this happens, 'cause she WOULD always be there to rescue me. And you wouldn't have to leave your girlfriend." The look on Scott's face didn't change. "Stiles, SHE'S A DIFFERENT SPECIES. I mean, she's a nice girl and all. I like her, everybody does. But I'm a werewolf, and she's a kitsune. Different species, Stiles..." Stiles shrugged again. "I know. But you're both supernatural creatures that heal fast and fight, so that works, right?" Scott stared in disbelief. "Um, no? She's more like a fox. I'm more like a wolf. And foxes and wolves don't... No." Stiles pressed on, "But what if she WAS a werewolf?" Scott shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe? But she's not, and besides. There's Allison." Stiles fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "Yeah. I like Allison... But maybe you could breed with BOTH of them! Visit with both of them on different nights, you know?" Scott laughed. "Uh, no. We're not humans, we don't have owners that arrange for nights to get us together to breed. We look for someone to MATE with, start new family sub-packs with when we're ready to set up our own households." Stiles looked curious. "So you guys never have more than one breeding partner?" Scott shook his head. "Not usually. Not unless the first one dies." Stiles thought about that. "Oh." No, he certainly didn't want anybody to die. But still... "Is that it? There's never any other reason you'd have a second breeding partner?" Scott smiled. "Well, do you think my parents have other partners?" Stiles nodded. "Yeah! Don't they? I mean, my granddad said-" Scott cut him off right there. "I don't even wanna KNOW what your granddad said, Stiles. He's not exactly a trustworthy source of information, is he? Besides, what does he say about YOU?" Stiles blew out a deep breath. "Uh, yeah. OK. Point conceded..."

"But is Kira part of your pack? Like, one of those people you FEEL all alpha towards, but can't really claim?" Scott didn't hesitate. "Yeah. All my friends are." Stiles grinned. "Bet you'd have most of Beacon Hills in your pack if you could, wouldn't you?" He paused. "Lydia and Jackson are in your pack, right? Like, they're ones you're really working on making part of it. Aren't they? 'Cause I mean, negotiating breeding and custody and visitation with other packs would be SO much more hassle, than if you were just alpha and owner of the whole thing. Right?" Scott just kept smiling. "Don't worry. You're not eighteen yet, Stiles. We've got time to work it all out." Stiles slumped further and folded his arms. "Same age I am, man, but look at you and Allison...." He kept up a steady stream of whinge and complaint the whole rest of the ride home (thankfully it was short!) and walking through the door. "I mean, even Liam has Hayden, and he's younger than BOTH of us! Totally not fair. Us humans are being oppressed and discriminated against. Uncool, dude..." Melissa gave him a fake-sad look as they kicked off their shoes. "Oh, you poor, oppressed little pet. And here I thought you two might appreciate brownies. But giving someone a brownie doesn't sound much like oppression, does it? Can't do that if I'm going to be oppressing you." Stiles shook his head, wide-eyed. "No! No, it doesn't. I mean, no, I'm not oppressed, you don't oppress me. I mean, PLEASE don't oppress me. I want a brownie! Please? I'm feeling all not-oppressed, and brownies would help significantly. Yeah?" Melissa raised an eyebrow. "And I'm supposed to reward you kissing up like that?" Stiles nodded vigorously. "YES! Absolutely, you know it! Please?"

Yep. Everything was back to normal. Or at least as normal as things ever were...!


End file.
